Greater than Gold
by Displaced Hobbit
Summary: A collection of tales about Fili and Kili as children being raised by their beloved Uncle Thorin. Loads of Durin family feelings and adorable little dwarflings with a heaping spoonful of angst. No slash.
1. Ten and Five

AN - I've been thoroughly destroyed by all of my Durin family feelings and Aidan Turner's goddamn perfect face. This is unbetaed because I am alone in my obsession (but if you'd like to volunteer, let me know!), so all mistakes, grammatically and historically, are mine. I'm planning on adding more chapters to this. Chapter titles will be Fili and Kili's ages.

Follow me on tumblr! displacedhobbit dot tumblr dot com.

Also I own nothing.

Enjoy!

Warnings: Durin family feelings. And I said goddamn in my AN. Oops.

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**Greater than Gold**

Chapter 1: Ten and Five

By Displaced Hobbit

Kili is five years old when he asks, catching both his brother and his Uncle Thorin off-guard. Balin had ushered the small dwarfling back into his home after an afternoon of lessons with an apologetic look on his face before making himself scarce. Fili is helping to cut the vegetables and meats that will become their evening stew, and Thorin washing his hands and face after finishing up his smithing.

Thorin sends his nephew a questioning look; normally the boy comes back from Balin's lessons excited to retell the tales that he's learned or show him how far he is progressing in learning his letters, and it unsettles him slightly to see the boy so quiet. Kili meets his gaze for a scant second before looking back at the fire in the hearth, and Thorin knows that there is something amiss with his youngest nephew. He sighs and dries his hands and face before walking over to his youngest nephew and scooping him up into a hug.

"And what did you learn with Mister Balin today?" he starts, pleased when Kili giggles at his typical show of affection.

"More letters," Kili answers a moment later. "Mister Balin says I need to practice."

"Fili will help you practice, won't he?" Thorin asks as he comes over to the kitchen area of their small home, placing the large pot over the fire to let the water boil. Fili glances up and flashes a warm smile, accompanied by a nod, before he gets back to his chore.

Thorin feels Kili's fingers start to idly comb through his hair, something that he has come to realize the boy does when he is upset or thoughtful. He finishes preparing the water for boil, then sets Kili down on a nearby chair and squats down to be at his level.

"Was there anything else?" he asks. Kili is biting his lip, his gaze wandering around but not focusing anywhere in particular. "Kili," he prompted, cupping the boy's chin in his hand to tilt his head up and make him look at him, tutting under his breath when he noticed the tears in the boy's eyes.

"What's a mum and a da?" he asked quietly. "Fosur said I wasn't a real dwarf because I don't have any."

Fili's hands stilled in their work, and Thorin let out a huff of air in surprise, wondering why he hadn't expected the boy to ask about this sooner. His eldest nephew fixed him with a sad look, and he nodded in understanding. "You know, Fili," he said quietly, thumb absently brushing across Kili's cheek. "I am sure Mister Dwalin would like to help you with your sparring. Perhaps you should run along and see if he has time now?"

Fili nodded eagerly, setting down his knife and retreating from the house without a backward glance. Kili's brows were furrowed in confusion, so Thorin fixed him with a comforting smile.

"It makes Fili sad to talk about your Mum and Da," he offered as an explanation, and Kili's eyes lit up.

"You mean I do have them?" he asks, and Thorin nods, albeit a bit sadly. "Where are they?"

At that, Thorin scoops the boy up and heads to the lone bookshelf in their home, finger ghosting carefully over the spines of the tomes until he finds the one he wants and pulls it free, a bit ashamed of himself at the amount of dust that it has collected. He seats himself down in the chair and settles Kili into his lap so he can also see the book before he begins flipping through its contents. The pages are worn, old charcoal sketches of all of his kin, collected through the ages and salvaged from Erebor before the dragon could burn it to ash.

Kili reaches out to one picture, stopping him in his search. "Uncle! That's you!" he exclaims, and Thorin chuckles.

"Aye, little one, that was me." He turns to the next page, revealing another young man. "This was my brother, Frerin." He swallows down the lump that has formed in his throat while Kili studies the picture, fingers ghosting over the lines carefully. After a moment, he turns to the next picture, and he presses a kiss against Kili's hair, if for nothing else to give him a moment to settle the sudden wave of emotion that surges through him. "This was my sister," he says quietly. "This was your Mum."

Kili is very quiet and he looks at the picture for a long time without moving. "She looks like Fili," he says a moment later. "And you."

Thorin nods and brings one arm to wrap around his youngest nephew's torso. "Aye, she does." He kisses the crown of the boy's head again. He lets himself get lost in some of his favorite memories of her: playing games of chase around the halls of Erebor, teaching her to spar with their brother, the look on her face when Fili had been born. But thinking of the joy surrounding Fili's birth makes him remember the sadness of Kili's, and he stops that line of thought before it can go much farther, striving to remember his sister in the good, happy times instead.

It is Kili who starts to turn the next page, and Thorin lets him, a soft smile gracing his lips when he looks at the sketch of the man his sister so dearly loved. "This was your Da," he said, arm tightening around the boy again. The image showed Tili in his most common attire, his mining gear, for he had been one of the numerous dwarrow miners who had lived in the town where the boys were born. He had a familiar lopsided grin, and Thorin fondly remembered his golden hair and shining brown eyes, attributes that had been passed on to his sons that Thorin had come to adore.

"Fili may look like your Mum and me, but you, little one," he said, leaning down to rest his chin on the boys shoulder. "You look just like your Da." Kili nodded, fingers tracing the image yet again as if to help him commit them to memory.

"He was a miner?" the boy asked, curious, and Thorin nodded in return. Kili continued studying the image, and after a moment, he moved to turn the page over, but found there were no more images.

"When you are older," he explained when he heard Kili's sigh of disappointment, "Fili's picture and your picture will come next." He started to close the book and put it aside, but Kili stopped him, and instead turned back to the picture of Dis.

"Why aren't they here with us?" Kili asked a moment later. "Fosur said that Mums and Das live with their sons and take care of them." His brow furrowed in confusion. "He said it was strange that we live with our Uncle and not with our Mum or Da."

"He is mostly right," Thorin conceded. "Most Mums and Das live with their children. And it is strange that you live with your Uncle." He sighed, and kissed the boy's hair yet again, wondering how he could explain this to such a young child and make him understand. It had been hard enough with Fili, and he had at least been old enough to remember them.

"Do you remember where Mister Balin said our people go when they leave this world?" he questioned softly.

Kili nodded. "Malados, I think," he murmured, and Thorin smiled.

"Mandos," he corrected. "When it is time for us to leave, we go to Mandos. Your Da was called away before you were ever born; your Mum was called just after."

Kili frowned as he looked up at his uncle. "But they can come back, can't they?"

Thorin shook his head. "I am afraid not, little one. But they are waiting for you. One day, far from now, you will be called away, and they will be waiting to greet you with open arms."

"Why can't they come see me now?" he asked, tears shining in his eyes. "Why did they get called away?" He blinked, and a few tears escaped that Thorin quickly wiped away. "Why do all of the other dwarflngs get to be with their Mums and Das and we don't?"

He sighed heavily, willing back the tears he could feel forming in his own eyes at the boy's questions, all of which were completely legitimate, but none of which he knew the true answers to. He flipped back to the picture of their father.

"Your Da," he said, clearing his throat when he realized just how tight his voice sounded, "was one of the best miners in all of the Blue Mountains. He was so loved and respected by all of the other miners and townsmen because he was always smiling and was so, so loving of those around him. Just like you."

Kili nodded, but his hands had shifted away from the pictures and they now pawed and pulled at the fabric of the arm of Thorin's tunic.

"Your Da was no warrior, but he was very brave. There was an accident in the mine, not long before you came to us." He swallowed back the well of emotion again. "Part of the deep mine was caving in, but your Da was there to save all of the miners that would have otherwise been trapped."

Kili had turned his face into his uncle's chest, and Thorin sighed at the wetness he felt there. "But then he got trapped?" he asked in a small voice, and Thorin leaned down to kiss his cheek when he heard the boy's voice waver.

"He did," Thorin confirmed.

Kili just sniffled, and softly muttered, "oh," as his fingers began tracing the lines of his father's picture again. "And Mum?" he asked a moment later.

Thorin sighed. He knew he could not tell him the whole truth of his mother's death. Young as he was, Kili was a rather sensitive lad, much like his father, and he'd always felt things very deeply, but the whole truth…that would hurt him in a way that Thorin knew he could not bear.

"You know that dwarrows only find true love with one other, don't you?" Kili nodded. "Well, your Mum loved your Da so very much; he was her One. When he was called away, she was very sad, and it was winter, which always made her sad to begin with, because it reminded her of Frerin. But then you came to us, on possibly the coldest, snowiest night I've ever seen, and she loved you. You gave her hope."

Thorin's voice cracked at the end of his sentence, hating himself for telling an outright lie to the boy. Dis hadn't even looked at him once he was born. She'd refused to see him, refused to hold him, refused to do anything but lie in bed and think of how she missed Tili. If she'd only spent a bit of time with her second son, she would have seen all of the attributes of her husband that had passed on to him, how Kili truly was a part of him to hold on to for the rest of her days.

He was thankful that Kili had been born in the winter. In those days, he spent the majority of his time travelling about, but he always spent the winters with his sister and her family. If he had not been there…he shuddered to think of a five-year-old Fili attempting to help his mother through the birth, caring for his newborn brother alone. The storm had been too frightful for anyone to venture out in. It had been too much for them to send for a healer days later when Dis fell ill. His stomach churned, thinking about all that had happened in the boy's first few days of life.

"And it was a good thing, too," he continued, pulling Kili closer when the boy turned completely in his lap to bury his face against his chest. "She fell ill from the cold not two days later, but you gave her so much happiness while you were with her. But, there were no healers who could help her, and she was called away from us to be with your father, and her brother, and her father before her." Kili muffled a sob into his tunic, and Thorin brought his arms up to wrap around him and rub soothing circles against his arms and back.

"And then you came to live with me," he continued. "You and Fili both. And I have loved you from the very first breath you took, and I will love you to your last." At that Kili really did start to cry, and Thorin busied himself with trying to comfort the boy. He was surprised that he seemed to understand. Fili had asked for months afterwards when his parents were coming back, but Kili had always been the more intuitive and thoughtful one of the pair. Although, he chided himself, it was probably too early to truly tell.

It took a while for Kili to cry himself out, and just as he did, Fili pushed the door to their home open, smiling sadly at Thorin with eyes rimmed red from crying. Without a word, he lifted the book from Thorin's lap and set in on the table before crawling up to sit with his uncle and brother, arms wrapping around the both of them the best that he could.

"It's okay, Kee," he said before pressing his forehead to his brother's. "We have Uncle and he loves us enough for the both of them." He pressed a kiss to the younger lad's cheek. "And you have me." Thorin felt a swell of pride in his eldest nephew, his heir. Fili had always looked after his brother, even though he was just a child himself, and he had always been comfortable taking on the responsibility. He reached down and ruffled the blonde's hair slightly, smiling affectionately down at him.

Kili nodded, still sniffling and calming himself, and the three of them stayed that way for a long while, soaking in comfort from one another. Thorin was debating getting up to finish their stew when Kili asks another question that has Fili stiffening against him and a solid weight dropping down into his stomach.

"Will you get called away too?"

He sighs and brings his hand up to card through the boy's hair, cupping the back of his head. "One day, yes," he murmurs, and immediately frowns when he hears Kili's hiccupping sob. Fili is shushing the boy quietly, but it is clear that it had never even occurred to him that they might loose Thorin too, and he's scared, so he hugs them both tightly.

"Not for a long while, if I have anything to say about it," he adds. "We all are called away, some day or another, some sooner than others, but I promise you," his voice cracks, "that I will never willingly leave you." Both boys nod against his chest, and he snuggles them for a while, knowing that he shouldn't coddle them so if he wants them to grow up to be great princes and warriors, but he can't help himself, not with how much he loves them and how much he hates to see them hurt.

It is a long while before he rouses them, not until Fili's stomach rumbles and both boys are giggling. Fili jumps up to finishing cutting the supplies and starts dumping them into the pot that has been boiling for most of their conversation. Thorin can't bring himself to put Kili down, so he cradles the small dwarfling against his chest with one arm and uses the other to tend to their meal, and Kili keeps one arm wrapped around his uncle's neck and sucks on the thumb of his free hand.

The rest of the evening passes without much incident, as Fili helps his brother with his letters while dinner cooks, and Thorin reads a story to put Kili to sleep shortly after. When he returns to the living room, Fili is looking at the pictures, a small smile on his face.

"I didn't know we had these," he said softly when his uncle comes to sit near him.

Thorin offered him a small smile. "I had forgotten until Kili asked about them," he admitted, mildly ashamed at himself for his negligence.

"I miss them," the boy whispered a moment later. "I think I was starting to forget what they looked like."

Thorin patted his arm gently. "Then, whenever you feel as though you can't remember, you should come and look at this book."

Fili nodded. "And Kili too?"

"Of course," Thorin confirmed. "Now, I want to hear all about your sparring lessons today."

Fili jumped up, setting the book aside with careful tenderness that stirred an emotion in Thorin that he couldn't quite pinpoint, before launching into his descriptions of his lesson, showing Thorin the moves he had learned and boasting that he had nearly beaten Dwalin, despite the fact that the elder dwarf was more than ten times Fili's size.

After a while, he sent Fili to bed as well, in the room he shared with his brother. Thorin hadn't been able to afford a grand home for the three of them; he'd barely been able to build their small house attached to the forge in the small town of men they called home. The brothers at least had their own room, but they had to share a bed, as tiny as it was. It was a small improvement from the days when they had first come to live with him, with all three of them squeezed into one small bed, and Thorin terrified of squishing Kili in the night.

He smiled fondly as Fili slipped under the furs, hands immediately reaching for his brother and pulling him tight to his chest. It reminded him of how he used to sleep with Frerin and Dis when they were children, all in a ball of warmth and safety. He hoped that the boys would always be so close and that they would never know the pain of loosing one another as he had felt when he'd lost his brother and sister.

Once he is sure that they are settled, he returns to the main room and pulls open the book again, looking at his sister and brother, father and grandfather, of all that was taken from him when the dragon came to Erebor.

Kili wakes sometime later with a broken scream, and when Thorin comes to calm him, Fili tells him that he was muttering about caves and rocks and falling, and he feels guilty for causing the boy distress. Eventually he settles himself into their bed and pulls a still sniffling Kili atop his chest as Fili curls up against his side. The boys drift off again, Kili with his head tucked securely under his chin and Fili with his hand gripping his tunic at his chest.

When Thorin finally drops off to sleep, he thinks that he may have found a treasure more precious than all of the gold in Erebor.


	2. Thirteen and Seven

AN – Okay, so please don't expect updates to regularly be this fast. Today was a very convenient snow day, and I was able to get a lot of writing done. :) It's more likely that I'll update every week or so, but I have so many Durin feels that I just don't know how to cope other than by writing them out, so who knows what will happen. Unbetaed, as usual, so all mistakes are my own.

Thank you so much for the review, favorites, and story alerts. Y'all make me so happy.

Follow me on tumblr! displacedhobbit dot tumblr dot com.

Also I own nothing.

Enjoy!

Warnings: Adorable babies, basically. Angsty Thorin, but when is he not?

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**Greater than Gold**

Chapter 2: Thirteen and Seven

By Displaced Hobbit

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Thorin tries to hide his smile as he watches his youngest nephew. He had expected Kili to start trying to practice with his brother's wooden swords as soon as Fili obtained them, since the younger always wanted to do everything his brother did. It reminded him of Frerin, which always made him happy and sad at the same time. His brother had always wanted to be with him, had wanted to be his shadow. It still haunted him that he hadn't been able to protect him, or his sister, but he swore to protect his sister-sons with every fiber of his being to make up for his failures.

Kili is small for his age, much smaller than Fili was. Even though his youngest nephew was seven, he wore the hand-me-down clothes Fili had worn when he was five. The wooden sword was nearly as tall as he was, and the lad struggled to lift it so that the tip didn't scrape the ground. He chuckled lightly as he settled himself on the ground, sitting with Kili standing between his legs and his back to his chest so their heads were at the same height. He laid one hand over top of Kili's and gripped the sword, lifting it with ease to point directly in front of the boy.

Kili let out a delighted laugh, and Thorin guided him through a few practice swings. "In a few years you'll have your own sword, little one," he murmured. "One better suited for your height, when you start training."

Kili shook his head. "No; I'll get this one. I get all of Fee's old things," he explained, tone indicating that he thought it should have been obvious to his uncle. In truth, it was something that Thorin despised; the way they constantly had to scrape to make ends meet only served as another reminder as to how far they had fallen. His nephews should be princes in Erebor, not two small dwarflings simply existing in a town of men.

But, he reminded himself, his sister never would have met her husband had they not been driven out, he never would have had his precious nephews otherwise.

Thorin laughed lightly. "I doubt you'll be as big as your brother was, even in three years," he explained.

The boy let go of the sword and wiggled his hands from under Thorin's grip before turning to face him, a frown set on his lips. "I will too be."

He set the sword down on the ground, smiling at the challenge the boy presented to him. "You won't be," he said, making an effort to sound completely sure of himself.

Kili's eyes watered a bit, and he shook his head. "I won't be this small forever," he half whined, sounding exasperated.

At that, Thorin pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You won't, but you will be small for a while." He raised a hand in a request for silence when the boy started to speak up again. "Winter children are always small for a while. You forget, Kili, that I was born in the winter as well. I was always much smaller than the other dwarflings, but you will grow out of it, just as I did."

Kili still frowned, but Thorin could see the glimmer of excitement that always sparked in his eyes when he mentioned how they were similar. "So I'll be like you?" he asked.

Thorin kissed his cheek. "You'll be better," he said, and Kili really did smile at that as he threw his arms around his Uncle's neck and held him tight. Thorin wrapped one arm around him and picked the sword back up with the other. He earned himself another delighted squeal when he stood them up and spun around once.

"I never would have thought I'd see the great Thorin Oakenshield turned to mush by such a tiny little thing," a familiar voice jested from behind him, and he turned to find Balin, eyeing him with a teasing glare, easy smile across his face.

Thorin smirked. "Perhaps old hearts do turn soft after a while," he answered as he hefted Kili up onto his shoulders. "Did Dwalin take Fili out for a while?"

Balin nodded. "Aye, he did." He chuckled. "He's bound to be sore and exhausted when he gets back, but at least your surprise will be intact."

"A surprise?!" Kili called from above him. "What is it? Why did you not tell me about it?"

Balin poked the boy's leg. "Because you can't keep a secret from your brother to save your life," he teased, and Kili frowned for a moment before he accepted that as truth.

"Can I see it?" he asked, fingers whirling through Thorin's hair. "Please, Uncle?"

Thorin laughed. "Yes, of course. But you cannot spoil it for him when he gets home."

Kili promised not to, and the three of them headed back to the forge attached to their home. Thorin set the boy down as soon as they were inside and headed to the back, where he pulled out a wrapped parcel from behind a shelf of tools. Kili pulled himself up onto a chair once Thorin set the bundle on the table, and gasped when the cloth was pulled away to reveal a real sword, glimmering silver in the afternoon light from the window.

"It's very well done," Balin commented, hand reaching out to skim along the blade, fingers brushing over the runes carved into the hilt. "It is a fine first blade for a prince." Kili glanced up at him curiously; he had never heard his brother referred to as a prince, but his Uncle was a prince, so he supposed it made sense.

Kili didn't dare reach out and touch, but Thorin smiled at the awe so clearly etched across his face. "Could you have kept this a secret for a few weeks?" he asked, and Kili immediately shook his head.

"What does that say?" Kili asked, eyes on the runes that he couldn't quite decipher.

"After all the years I've spent teaching you your letters, laddie…" Balin muttered, and Kili at least had the decency to blush.

"It says 'honor and loyalty,'" Thorin explained quietly. "When I was young, my father always told me that the finest attributes of a prince were honor and loyalty to his king."

The boy frowned. "Is Fili really a prince? I know you are, but, wouldn't Da have had to be one for him to be?"

Thorin gave him a small smile. "You are both princes of Erebor, just as I was. Your birthright comes through your Mum, as she was princess. I cannot give you your great halls or crowns, not yet, but one day you will have them."

"That's why I spend so much time teaching you about Erebor and our history, the things I don't teach the other dwarrows," Balin added. "You do not have your kingdom yet, but it will come, and you and Fili both will be ready for it."

Kili nodded, digesting the information silently as he was prone to. He smiled up at his Uncle. "Fili will be a great prince," he declared, and Thorin reached out to ruffle his wild hair fondly.

"Aye, he will," he agreed, before covering the sword and returning it to its hiding place. "But he will be rather cross with us if we are not ready for his birthday, so we had best get to the market."

Kili slid down off of his chair, bouncing excitedly. "I can't wait for Mister Bofur to show you what I made!" he declared. He had been working with the young toymaker for several weeks, on something that he'd managed to not peep a word about, a rare feat for the lad. Thorin knew when he thought about his work, though, because a secret sort of smile would always creep up on his face when he thought no one was looking.

He lifted the lad up effortlessly and settled him against his hip. Part of him hated how he coddled Kili so, but he was not keen on having the boy roaming through the marketplace alone. He was too small, and there were too many men who wouldn't think twice of treating a young dwarfling ill for him to let either of his nephews out of his sight, or out of his touch, if he could help it.

"Come, Balin," he said to his longtime friend as they made their way to the door. "A bit of fresh air in the market will do you some good. You've been spending far too much time with your stuffy old scrolls."

Balin scoffed at him but followed anyway, muttering something about using his stuffy old scrolls to teach his nephews about their heritage.

They stopped first to meet with Bofur, a fellow dwarf who had always called the Blue Mountains home, and had been teaching Kili how to make things from wooden blocks. Kili squirmed free of his Uncle's grasp and immediately launched himself at Bofur's legs, and the dwarf feigned injury and fell to the ground with a dramatic flop as Kili sprawled across him.

"You've bested me again!" he declared, and Kili laughed breathlessly.

"Careful now, you'll give him a big head," Thorin teased as he offered a hand to get the other dwarf to his feet.

Bofur just grinned. "Don't think it could get any bigger than yours," he pointed out, and Thorin laughed.

"Come then," he said. "Let me see this great gift you've created for your brother." Bofur nodded at the boy, who disappeared behind the stall and came back a moment later, clutching a wooden sculpture in his hands. He handed it to Thorin with great reverence and care, and the older dwarf squatted down to be level with his nephew as he turned it over in his hands.

"You made this?" he asked, slightly in awe. Kili had always been good with his hands; his handwriting was almost as nice as Balin's (even if he still didn't know all of his letters without looking them up) and he'd always been able to braid neatly and quickly (though they always fell out of his own hair, so he spent most of his time braiding Fili's or Thorin's). Kili would sometimes carve runes into Thorin's metal work with careful, steady hands, and if he was bored he would draw crude pictures on scraps of paper that Thorin left tucked in random places throughout their home, should he ever need a reason to smile.

"It's a lion," Kili explained, looking to his Uncle for any sign of approval. "Mister Balin showed me a picture of one and it made me think of Fee."

He traced his fingers over the carving of a lion's face and mane. He hadn't needed Kili's explanation; the work was exquisite and beautiful, a feat for such a young child. He turned it over again in his hands, taking in all of the detail that the boy had put into it, and smiled. Kili would be wasted in the forge, he mused. His skills would lie in detailed work rather than brute strength, perhaps with leather, and maybe one day with jewels, if they ever returned to Erebor where they could afford such things again.

"It's wonderful, lad," he murmured eventually, and Kili's entire face lit up with a smile as he threw his arms around his Uncle's neck again.

"Do you think Fee will like it?" he asked, and Thorin nodded.

"I think he will love it," he clarified, and Kili hugged him tighter.

He tried to thank Bofur with a bit of coin, but the dwarf waved him off with a smile, telling him how much he had enjoyed Kili's company and that had been payment enough. Kili thanked him with a wide smile and a tight hug, tugging another smile from his Uncle. The boy really was much like his father, full of warm embraces and easy smiles. His affectionate nature rubbed off on everyone he met; perhaps Balin was right and he was growing soft.

With a nod, they headed back out into the marketplace, one of Kili's hands clutched in Thorin's and the other grasping his prized carving close to his chest. They met back up with Balin in the marketplace, and found the older dwarf had several new scrolls tucked under his arm.

"All for your lessons," he teased at the wary look Kili gave the scrolls, and the boy gave a loud gasp coupled with a horrified gaze. Kili's handwriting may have been exquisite, but his reading skills were far below where they should be, and Balin spent many hours pouring through scrolls with the boy to help him learn. He laughed then, and reached down to pat the boy's head fondly. "I only jest, laddie. These are for your Uncle. All about Erebor!"

Thorin gave him a questioning look, one that Balin simply answered with a smile, and they continued through the marketplace, gathering up the groceries they would need for a week or so, and picking out some special ingredients to make Fili's favorite potpies. By the time they were ready to head home, Kili was dozing against his Uncle's chest, thumb in his mouth and all, and Thorin's other arm was laden with their purchases of the day.

It was on days like this when he most missed his sister. When Fili was young, she would haul them both to the market and spend her time coddling over her babe while Thorin lugged around her purchases. Now, he was stuck carrying everything, and it made him feel the heavy burden on his shoulders.

Balin must have picked up on his turbulent thoughts, and he reached out to grab one of the crates that Thorin had precariously balanced against his chest. He started to protest, but his old friend shot him a knowing look, the one that said _you don't have to do all of this alone_, and he let it drop. He was lucky to have such good friends in Balin and Dwalin; he knew he would not have been able to care for the boys properly if it weren't for them.

Balin taught them their lessons, letters, history, and anything else the boys would willingly listen to. He actually taught most of the dwarrow children in the town, and made a fair bit of coin off of it, but he never charged Thorin a cent, always claiming that he just enjoyed spending time with the lads. When Fili had turned ten, Dwalin had started training him in sparring and sword fighting, as was tradition in Erebor. Fili loved those lessons, and Kili was eager to start his own, though he had a few more years to wait. Dwalin made most of his coin through hunting and trapping, and he usually supplied their family with all of the salted meats they could possibly want. They both often spent time helping Thorin in the forge when he needed it, but business had been slow as of late, and there hadn't been much work to be done.

Once they reached home, he deposited Kili into the bed he shared with his brother, tucking him in with a soft kiss to his cheek to nap. He wished, for the second instance in such a scant time, that Dis were alive to see her son; she would have adored him.

He sighed before heading back into the main area of their home, pleased to find Balin already mixing the ingredients to make the potpies. Thorin knew better than to even joke of touching the food; he had always been a disaster in the kitchen. When it was just the three of them, they often subsisted on simple stews and roasted meats with breads they purchased at the market. When Balin and Dwalin dined with them, they always cooked, and on those nights they dined like the princes they were.

Thorin was drawn out of his thoughts by Dwalin's rumbling laughter from just outside the door. Not a moment later, Fili had thrown it open, face flushed with excitement.

"Uncle! Mister Balin!" he shouted, as soon as he saw them. "You'll never believe what I did today!"

Thorin shushed him quietly, with a meaningful glance toward their bedrooms, and Fili offered a sheepish smile as he propped the practice sword he had been carrying by the door.

"Mister Dwalin taught me how to ride a _pony_, Uncle! All by myself! And I did great, didn't I?" he asked, turning to look at Dwalin, and grinning from ear to ear at the affirming nod he gave. "The pony even tried to knock me off and I didn't fall!"

Thorin chuckled and bent down to accept his offered hug. "We'll make a right fine warrior out of you yet, won't we?" Fili grinned impossibly wider.

"Supper will be ready soon," Balin pointed out, and Fili's eyes lit up when he saw what was placed on the stove. "You ought to go wash up and wake your brother."

Fili nodded excitedly and all but sprinted back to the washroom to do as he was told. It was rare that they did anything special for any of their birthdays; Thorin and Kili's were in the winter and it was often too cold and snowy for them to even leave the house. It warmed his heart that his Uncle and Misters Balin and Dwalin had thought to make him something special for supper. And he was _thirteen_. The next time he trained with Dwalin, he would be allowed to use a real sword. He had hoped they would today, but learning how to ride was exciting enough as it was.

He hurriedly dunked his hands into the basin and scrubbed them clean, before cupping some of the cool water and washing his face, paying special attention to the whiskers on his chin. He did not have a proper beard yet, but he wanted to keep it as clean and neat as possible. He practically tore off his shirt to finish scrubbing himself as clean as he could manage; he had been outside all day in practically the middle of summer, and around noontime he and Mister Dwalin had been drenched in sweat. He could probably do with an entire bath, but he was far too excited to bother with such things like heating the water and carrying it to the basin.

He paused as he crept back toward the room he shared with his brother for a fresh change of clothes, when Dwalin said something that piqued his interest.

"More signs?" the warrior muttered. "How are we to know that these can be believed? What if this is all folly?"

Thorin sighed, reading through a scroll and rubbing at his temple. "There is no way to know, unless we investigate ourselves. These signs could be coming from those who attempt to deceive us."

"Well what of the boys?" Balin asked in a concerned voice. "We cannot leave them here, alone."

Thorin sighed again, heavier this time. "I do not know." A tiny bolt of fear shot down Fili's spine. What could they possibly be talking about that would have his Uncle even consider leaving them behind? "Perhaps we should give this some time, should wait and see what develops."

"We could bring the boys with us if they are but a bit older," Dwalin added. "More trained and prepared for such an adventure."

"Perhaps we could ask Dain for his assistance?" Balin asked, and even Fili flinched at the glare his Uncle gave him. "He has access to more resources than you, Thorin! He could send spies and get more information for us."

"And he would take Erebor for himself if he could!" Thorin whisper-shouted, mindful of his nephews. "He would not even offer us sanctuary without a price; he would not do this without his own gain. I know what his price would be, and I will not pay it."

"So we will wait," Dwalin placated. "We will wait until we can either search for ourselves or we find ones we can trust to do so for us." He clapped a hand to his brother's shoulder. "This is a happy day, we should save such discussions for another time."

After a moment of tension, both Thorin and Balin nodded, and his uncle murmured something about the forge before slipping out the door. Fili let out the breath he wasn't even aware he had been holding. He was not proud of himself for eavesdropping on his Uncle, but he could not help but wonder what they were discussing. Thorin often spoke of reclaiming their homeland one day, but Fili never dreamed it would be so soon; he imagined that he and Kili would both be seasoned warriors by the time they set out for Erebor. And surely his Uncle would not leave them here, in this town of men, to go back to the Lonely Mountain!

He mulled over this new information as he silently crept into his bedroom and dug for some clean clothes in the chest located at the foot of their bed. Kili was sleeping still, curled up in his furs despite the heat outside. Once he changed himself, he stroked his hand across Kili's cheek, gently calling him awake as he came to sit on the side of the bed.

Sleepy brown eyes peered up at him for all of a second before they brightened completely, and his lap was full of an excited little brother, wishing him a happy birthday over and over again. Fili wrapped his arms around him and returned the hug, murmuring his thanks against his brother's hair.

He hadn't been so sure of his brother when he had first been born. There was so much sadness and confusion in his life then, with the death of his father, the arrival of his brother, and the death of his mother just after. At first, he despised the little bundle that Thorin cradled with him wherever he went. He cried all of the time and made Mum sad and got nearly all of the attention from his Uncle. For five and a half years, he had been the center of their world, and he didn't understand why things were suddenly different.

After Mum had passed, Thorin had sat him down and explained everything that had happened as best as he could. It was the first time that he had learned about his Uncle Frerin, and Thorin told him of how it was hard to adjust to a new sibling. But then, his beloved Uncle, who he'd admired above all others, (except for possibly his father) had told him that he needed his _help_. He'd told him that he was scared and sad and didn't know what to do and that he needed Fili to be the best big brother that he could possibly be, and he'd been helpless to refuse.

He'd helped with everything he could, for as long as he could remember, and Misters Dwalin and Balin had too. It took a few weeks for him to warm up to his baby brother, but one day, as he was feeding the little boy, Kili had looked up at him with those big brown eyes, his _father's_ eyes, and tangled his hand in Fili's hair, cooing happily up at him. From that day on, he was well and truly lost as far as his brother was concerned. He would do _anything_ for him, and he took great comfort in the fact that he knew Kili would too.

Kili asked what he had done that day, and he obliged, watching with a smile as Kili's eyes got impossibly wide.

"A _pony!_" he exclaimed, breathless. "I want to learn, too!"

Fili ruffled his hair affectionately; sighing when he noticed the boy's braids had fallen out. "You'll need to be a good bit taller for that, Kee," he said as his fingers idly combed through his brother's hair, separating out a patch to braid. His braiding skills needed a lot of work, he knew, as they were always so lumpy looking when he finished them. Kili braided his hair most of the time anyhow. Fili always tried on his little brother, but the boy's hair was so fine that the beads always slipped loose before the day was through. Nonetheless, he finished off the braid, tying the strands of hair around the bead, smiling now that his brother looked somewhat presentable.

Kili reached up to run his fingers over the braid when he'd finished and smiled up at him. "Uncle says that he was little like me too and that one day I'll be as big and strong as he is!"

Fili smiled, standing up off the bed and pulling Kili's arm to come with him. "I have no doubts about that," he said. "Come now, Mister Balin says that supper is almost ready."

Kili pulled his arm away from him, a shy smile on his lips. "I need to get something," he explained, as he half crawled back up onto their bed and reached under his pillow to grasp something that was covered in a small swatch of cloth.

"What's that?" Fili asked, a teasing smile on his face. "Have you gone and gotten your brother something for his birthday?" Kili laughed and shook his head no. Fili pushed his brows together in confusion. "Well, what is it then?"

His little brother bounded off ahead of him into their living room. "You'll have to wait and see, brother!"

With a wry smile, he followed his brother, watching as he climbed up onto a chair to place his parcel on top of the table, where another item, similarly wrapped in cloth rested. A warm feeling settled itself in his stomach. Gifts were a rarity for them. They were so tight on money that any bit they could save was stashed away, usually for the winter months when Dwalin wasn't able to hunt as much as they had to spend more at the market to eat. Thorin had already spoken to him about starting to work in the forge once he was able and a bit stronger so they could possibly make more money when business was available.

"Ah, just in time!" Balin greeted, gesturing for him to take a seat next to his brother at the table. "A most happy birthday to you, laddie," he murmured with a clap to his arm and a warm smile.

"And don't worry," Dwalin added. "Your Uncle had nothing to do with the preparation of this meal." Both dwarflings laughed at that, and Thorin scowled a bit, however insincere it was.

A moment later, small potpies were settled in front of everyone and they all began to eat. Since there were no women present, as there never were, it was a messy affair. Kili still preferred to eat with his fingers and nothing else, and Dwalin had a habit of literally licking his plates clean. In no time at all they were all satiated, but Fili still managed to eat what Kili had not been able to finish.

Fili glanced over at his brother and sighed, noting that his braid was already falling out, and he reached over and pulled the bead loose and tucked it back into his pocket. Kili sent him a rather unapologetic smile and he just shook his head.

"Uncle you should give Fee your present!" he declared, practically vibrating with excitement, and Thorin chuckled lightly.

"And I suppose you know what my present is, do you?" he asked as Thorin cleared the table and Balin slid the largest bundle closer to him.

His younger brother nodded enthusiastically and started to open him mouth, but immediately clamped it shut when Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin gave him a sharp warning of "_Kili_!"

Fili laughed lightly at him, knowing how terrible his brother was with secrets, and waiting until Thorin returned from placing the dishes in the washbasin before he started pulling at the strings tying the cloth around his gift. Once the cloth was freed, he peeled it back to look at what was hidden underneath, shock overtaking his features.

"Is this…?" he murmured, looking up at his Uncle's smiling face with curious eyes. His hands gripped the hilt of the sword and delicately pulled it from the scabbard, mindful of how close all of them were to the table. "This is…"he murmured again, unable to find words to express his gratitude.

"It is tradition in Erebor that a crown prince receives his first sword on his thirteenth birthday, should his sword master deem him skilled enough," Balin explained, faint smile tugging at his lips as Dwalin nodded. "One that is crafted by a family member, or very close friends."

Fili looked up at his Uncle in awe. The sword was beautiful, fit for a dwarf, and it must have taken ages for Thorin to secure the sturdy materials and craft it with such care. "You made this?" he asked, and his Uncle nodded in return. "I…" he murmured, still rendered nearly speechless. "Thank you." His fingers ran over the runes carved in the hilt and he smiled, warmth spreading through him as he remembered the stories Thorin had told him of his grandfather, of honor and loyalty.

"So in response to your earlier question, lad," Dwalin added, pride evident in his features. "We'll start training you with real swords tomorrow."

A wide smile split Fili's face then, and he carefully placed the sword back into its scabbard before jumping down from his chair and catching Thorin in a crushing hug. "Thank you so much Uncle," he breathed.

Thorin bent to press a kiss into his hair. "You are most welcome," he murmured quietly. He smiled fondly when Fili disengaged and ran to hug both Dwalin and Balin in turn, unable to resist the urge to turn Balin's earlier words against him. "Turned to mush by such a small thing indeed."

"Oh, quiet, you sentimental old fool," he retorted

Fili eventually returned to his seat, fingers skimming over the cool leather of the scabbard, when he eyed the smaller parcel on the table. He turned to look at his brother. "Well, come on then," he insisted. "I don't think I can bare to wait any longer!"

Kili smiled a shy smile. "It's not as nice as Uncle's gift," he murmured, but reached for the parcel anyway and crawled into his brother's lap.

Thorin snorted as he watched their display. One day he would need to work on teaching Kili the meaning of personal space, but truth be told, he enjoyed cuddling the lad for too much for that just yet.

Fili unwrapped the parcel with the same care that he had the sword, and smiled when he saw what was inside. "Did you make this all yourself?" he asked, setting the cloth back on the table as he ran his fingers along the carving, just as Thorin had. Kili nodded from where he had settled himself against his brother's chest.

"Mister Balin gave me the picture and Mister Bofur let me use his tools," he explained.

Fili smiled when he turned it over to see where his brother had etched Fili's name onto the flat back of the carving. "Did it take you a long time?" he asked softly, ever aware of his brother's shy mood.

Kili nodded again. "Do you like it?"

Fili pressed a kiss to his brother's cheek and hugged him tightly. "I love it, Kee." Kili laughed happily against his chest, but made no move to get off of his brother.

"Might I see that?" Dwalin asked, reaching a hand across the table for the carving. Fili leaned forward to hand it to him, smiling all the while. Thorin and Balin excused themselves to tend to the dishes as he studied the gift. "You must have steady hands," he commented, eyeing Kili kindly, and the boy squirmed in his brother's lap at the compliment (as much of a compliment as one could ever get out of Mister Dwalin).

He reached to the table again and pulled Fili's sword closer for inspection, smiling as he lifted one of the leather ties of the scabbard. "You know," he commented, catching eyes with Fili. "It's common for warriors to carry a talisman with them into battle. Something that represents what they fight for."

Fili caught his meaning and smiled, while Kili just looked up at him confused.

"If you wouldn't mind," he said, pulling a small carving knife from his belt, "I could put a little notch in it right here so your could tie it to your scabbard and keep it with you at all times." He showed Kili exactly what he intended to do, and although the young dwarf regarding him with wide eyes, he nodded his consent.

In less that a minute, Dwalin had carved a small channel into the back of the carving, mindful of where Fili's name was so carefully etched, and Fili was tying it to his scabbard with a delighted smile on his face. Thorin and Balin emerged just as they finished, and Fili beamed up at them.

"Now it is the most perfect gift I ever could have asked for!" he declared, and Thorin ruffled his hair fondly.

"Indeed," he agreed, a swell of sheer happiness welling up inside him as he watched his nephews.

Maybe the signs were true. Maybe they would be able to reclaim Erebor soon. Maybe the dragon was aging and weakened and they would be able to slay him, if he were not already dead. Maybe his sister-sons would sit on thrones, dressed in jewels instead of threadbare hand-me-downs. Maybe their times of hardship were behind them

Maybe.

For now he was content with enjoying the love and affections of his nephews.

* * *

Thanks for reading!


	3. Thirteen and Eight - Part One

AN – Sorry this took so long! I didn't have internet access for a while. Thank you so much for the review, favorites, and story alerts. Y'all make me so happy.

Follow me on tumblr! displacedhobbit dot tumblr dot com.

I still own nothing. Enjoy!

Warnings: Mild violence, angsty Thorin.

First part is inspired by art from kaciart dot tumblr dot com / post / 42264776833

**Greater than Gold**

Chapter 3: Thirteen and Eight – Part 1

By Displaced Hobbit

* * *

In the end, the battlefield was a burning, smoldering mess. Bodies of orc and dwarf alike laid broken in the muck; eyes glassy and unseeing peer up at him from odd angles. He looked around to attempt to locate any of his comrades, but found himself alone. Only emptiness and death remained as the fires burned themselves off in the distance. His lungs are choked with smoke and his eyes sting, but still he searches, although he can no longer remember who had accompanied him into battle.

A strangled cry sounds from behind him, one that he could recognize instantly, even from the depths of sleep, and his blood runs cold. He whips himself around, sword drawn and eyes blazing, and does not believe what he sees.

"No…" he breathes in obvious disbelief, and Azog the Defiler's rumbling laugh rises up to meet him, dark and sinister. He should be dead! He must be! He'd killed him himself!

The beast has both of his sister-sons; one hand is latched around Fili's neck, holding him off the ground, even as the boy struggles valiantly to free himself, while his other holds his sword, skewered cruelly through Kili's shoulder, blood coursing from the wound in waves. It was Kili who had cried out, eyes wide with fear and pain, and a rage surges through him unlike any he has felt before.

"Release them," he demands in all but a snarl, sounding every bit like the king he is, but Azog merely smiles, clinches his fist tighter around Fili's throat and twists the sword in Kili's shoulder. His youngest nephew cries out in a way that is so utterly wretched and unlike anything he has heard from the boy before. Fili's struggles increase when he hears his brother, and he succeeds and scratching and clawing at the pale orcs hand, drawing rivulets of dark blood, but the beast's grip does not relent.

"Release them!" he cries out again, ashamed at the despair that clings to his voice, but his fear is stronger than his pride. The safety of his nephew's is his only concern.

The Defiler studies him for a long moment, too long for his tastes as he watches how Kili's blood is dripping, the pool of it growing wider on the ground. "I _am_ feeling generous today, oh great Master Oakenshield," he sneers. "You may choose one to spare."

His stomach drops like a stone. Choose? He could _never_ choose between them. Fili; calm, kind, gentle Fili, his _heir_, the lad who has helped him so dearly in all of the time they have been a family, who so fiercely reminds him of his own brother, who he couldn't protect. And Kili! Sweet, loving Kili who always brought a smile to his face and braided his hair and kissed his sadness away when he caught it, who was still but a babe that snuggled against his chest at night. Fili, who is his home, and Kili, who is his heart. He cannot choose between them.

His decision comes swiftly, and he thinks this may be what Azog really wants.

"I cannot choose," he mutters and throws his sword down with enough force to startle off Smaug himself. "You may take my life instead." It is a rash decision, he knows, and he will not be able to protect them afterwards, but he knows he cannot choose. He could never choose.

Kili is screaming them, begging him. "Uncle _please!_ Please! Pick Fili! Pick him! Please, Uncle, please!" Fili stills and is wide eyed as he stares at his brother, not daring to imagine a world without him, and a self-satisfied smile pulls at the Defiler's lips. "I'll be alright," Kili promises. "I'm too little; I'm not _important_!"

A keening noise escapes from Fili as he tries to call out for his brother, or perhaps as he tries to plead his own case with his uncle. It tears at his heart to hear his youngest nephew say such things, to hear him belittle himself so.

"A most noble offer," Azog comments, sounding bored. "But I must refuse."

He wants to scream, wants to rip the beasts head off with his bare hands.

"You must choose one, or I kill them both." A wicked smile curves his lips. "And I am growing impatient."

"Uncle please," Kili calls again, much quieter this time, and he is alarmed at how pale the boy has become, at how much blood he has lost. It's too much. "Please save Fili," he murmurs, eyes drooping shut.

Fili is thrashing wildly now, shaking his head as furiously as he can in the Defiler's grasp. He cannot choose. He cannot loose one, and the survivor will never forgive him for what he has done. Whoever he chooses to save will despise him for all eternity, though never as much as he would truly despise himself.

"Time is running out," Azog taunts, and he tries desperately to find a way to save them both, to fell the Defiler before he can harm either of them. A whisper of a plan forms in his head, one that has the barest hope of succeeding, but it is all that he has. It is insane and the risk is too great, but he cannot fail them. He can't!

"Time's up," the beast sneers.

"Fili!" he calls out, arms outstretched. The blonde looks at him, horrified at his choice, eyes screaming with hurt and betrayal and hatred, and when Azog finally releases him and throws him at his uncle, he is screaming curses in Khuzdul, his voice hoarse from the Defiler's grasp. He hits the ground just as Azog yanks the sword from Kili's shoulder. The boy immediately sinks to his knees and cries out in pain, but when he meets eyes with his uncle, he looks oddly relieved.

"Comfort the boy as he dies," Azog commands.

The beast moves behind Kili and readies his sword to stab him through the back, to make sure that he _sees_, and he grabs at the dagger he keeps stowed in his bracer. He hurls it with as much force as he can muster, aiming for the Defiler's temple. His aim rings true, but it is too late.

Azog's sword is buried in Kili's chest before the beast even falls to his knees.

He watches, terrified at what he has done, as the pale orc finally falls backward, dead, his sword pulling out of Kili with a horrific squelching noise. His youngest falls forward and hits the ground with barely a sound and does not move again.

"No!" Fili is screaming, voice hoarse, and he scrambles up from where he's landed, not five feet away from his uncle, running for his brother, rolling him over and pulling him into his arms and begging him to stay with him just a little while longer.

He is sure that his own heart has stopped. How could he! How could he have let this happen? He trudges forward on numb feet, watching as Fili cradles his brother close and brushes his hair from his face. He collapses to his knees once he reaches them, heart twisting violently in his chest at his sees Azog's final act of cruelty. Kili is stabbed through his lung, not his heart, and his death will be prolonged and painful. He watches with muted horror as the boy tries to draw breath, as Fili tries to coach him along, brushing the tears from his cheeks and murmuring words of encouragement even as his own voice quakes and crumbles in the wake of his grief.

He isn't aware that he is crying until Kili reaches a shaking, bloodstained hand to swipe at his cheeks, and he catches the hand and presses a kiss to his palm, and brings his other hand to press against the wound in his chest. It won't help, he knows; the damage is too deep. It is futile to try and stop bleeding, but it gives him a small comfort to try.

"S'okay, uncle," he rasps, choking on his own breath and wetly coughing blood. "I asked you to."

He shakes his head, horrified. "I'm sorry, little one," he chokes out, voice thick with tears. "I'm _sorry_; I thought I could save you both. I was too late." He keeps murmuring apologies in between his sobs, watching as the light in Kili's eyes starts to fade. Fili starts to panic, his voice raising an octave as he pleads with his brother to live, to hold on, to not _leave_ him.

The light fades away completely. Kili draws no more strangled breaths, coughs no more blood.

Fili looks up at him in utter disbelief, tears pouring freely from his eyes. He cannot form words past the lump in his throat, so he pulls them both close, clutching them to his chest as tightly as he dares. Fili screams his anguish into his shoulder and punches him with every sob, cursing at him every time he draws breath, and he can find no words to comfort him; he can find no words to comfort himself, so he holds them both close and cries in a way he hasn't since Frerin died.

Someone starts to shake him, to pull him away from his nephews, and he clutches the boys closer. Whoever it is will not take them from him. They shake him again, and, enraged, he throws out an arm as fiercely as he dares, pleased at the feel of hitting flesh and at the sound of someone falling solidly to the ground.

But it is for naught, and they are back not a moment later, shaking him almost violently, a distant voice that he vaguely recognizes calling for him. But he won't let go. He won't.

* * *

He wakes with a start, hands instinctively throwing the small body off of him with more force than necessary. Kili cries out as he hits the floor a second time, but is undeterred and climbs back into his uncle's bed as quickly as he can.

Thorin stares at him in disbelief and Kili grasps his face in his hands, forcing him to look at him. "Uncle," he breathes, sounding comforting and terrified all at once. "It was just a dream. It wasn't real." In the dim light from the dying fire in the hearth, he is slowly able to make out his youngest nephew's face, eyes shining with unshed tears as he tries to understand what ails his beloved uncle.

He doesn't believe him. It has to be a trick. They boy had died, right in his arms, before his very eyes! Without thinking, he yanks the boy's sleeping tunic up, ignoring the boy's undignified squeal of surprise, and searches for the wounds, but he only finds clean, unblemished skin. Eyes wide with disbelief, he reaches up to cup the boy's face in his hands, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones.

"You're alive," he breathes, and Kili only nods, his eyes betraying how confused and wary he is. He's never seen his uncle like this, so raw and terrified, and he doesn't know how to make it better. Thorin sobs out a cry of relief and presses a kiss against his forehead before clutching him close to his chest, the relief flooding through his system like a most powerful draught. The tears come hard and fast, and he knows he should be ashamed, but he can't be bothered to care because Kili is _alive_, and that is all that matters.

"I heard you screaming, Uncle," Kili explains, voice muffled against the solid weight of Thorin's chest. "I thought you hurt."

A _dream_ – no, a night terror – but nothing more. His boys are safe and the Defiler is dead, can never hurt them. He sobs again and presses kisses into Kili's hair, thanking every deity he can think of that he is safe. He's never felt this unsettled, in all the battles he's lived through, all the horrors he's seen have never caused this numbness in his limbs, the absolute terror he'd felt when he'd truly believed that one of his nephews ceased to be.

Then he feels the crushing weight of his guilt. Dream or no, he'd gambled with Kili's life, and he'd _lost_. The memory of the light fading from those big, brown eyes that he'd adored since the boy was born flashes in front of his mind again, and he shakes his head to clear it away. For a long while he cries, ashamed at what he had done in his sleep, clutching Kili close and vowing over and over again to never let anything bad happen to the boy. He knows Kili is crying as well, in confusion and fear, he thinks, for he has never seen his uncle so distraught. He can feel the dampness against his neck, can feel how the boys hands have tangled in his hair like it is a lifeline.

It takes him a while to calm himself. "I'm sorry, little one. I didn't mean to wake you," he murmurs in a voice wrecked by his sobbing. "I had a dream that you were called away to where I cannot follow, far before your time." Admitting it out loud causes a fresh wave of guilt and sadness to crash over him. It had been his _fault_.

"I'm still here, Uncle," he murmured in a small voice that shook with tiny tremors. "And Fee is too," he added. "You can hear him snoring all the way over here!"

Thorin couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him when he realized that, now that the rush of blood had faded from his ears, he _could_ hear his eldest nephew faintly snoring from the room he shared with his brother. He pressed another kiss to the boy's forehead. "Aye, that you are, lad," he murmured, pulling the boy away from him so he can see his face. With a sigh, he brushed his thumbs across his cheeks again, wiping away his tears. "I did not mean to scare you so," he mumbles, and Kili smiles brightly, and a tiny bit of warmth seeps itself back into his bones, even as the boy's eyelids droop.

The dream has left him unsettled, and he already knows that sleep will elude him for the rest of the night. Even with Kili's assurances that both of his nephews are safe and sound and Fili's distant snores, he longs to see his heir, to see that he is truly well. To see him look upon him with love and adoration, instead of seeing his young face twisted in rage at _him_, at what he had done.

"Come now," he says, drawing himself out from under his furs and scooping the lad up into his arms. "Let's get you back to bed."

He intends to simply deposit Kili into the bed he shares with his brother and wish him a good night. Perhaps he will read the correspondences Balin has collected about Erebor and the dragon, to see if anything has changed, to se if there are any more signs that it would be safe to return. Maybe he'll go to the forge and get some more work done, even though business has been dismally slow as of late and he hasn't had any orders in days.

Instead he finds, himself lifting the furs and nudging Fili out of the middle of the bed, lying down himself. Kili sighs happily and snuggles against him without a thought as he tucks them in, but Fili grumbles lightly, not fully waking up.

"D'you have a bad dream, Kee?" he asks sleepily, even as he instinctively presses up against his uncle's side. He drags a hand, heavy with sleep, across Thorin's chest, seeking out Kili's own and grasping it lightly once he finds it.

"I did," Thorin answers, drawing one hand up to lazily card his hand through his eldest nephew's hair.

Fili's brow furrows in confusion, as if he cannot fathom the thought of his uncle having a bad dream, though he doesn't open his eyes.

"I hope you do not mind if I stay with you tonight," he adds, pressing a kiss against Kili's forehead. The lad had fallen asleep almost as soon as they had lain down, thumb lodged securely in his mouth. He is tempted to pull it free – the boy is getting to old for such things – but he can't bring himself to.

"Tha s'okay," Fili murmurs, before dropping off to sleep again, clearly contented.

It comforts him greatly to see them both well, to see that they are not angry with him, but sleep doesn't come easily to him, as he'd expected. His thoughts drift aimlessly for a while, though he determinedly turns them away from the dream and Frerin when they drift that way. He is largely unsuccessful in his endeavors, and he keeps seeing Kili's blood slipping away, Fili's eyes boring into his with hatred. His heart sits heavy with guilt in his chest, no matter how hard he tries to shake it. It was his fault. His fault. He had failed his nephews just as he'd failed Frerin. And Dis. And his father.

Kili wakes twice during the night from bad dreams, as he is prone to, though it is usually Fili who calms him and coaxes him back to sleep. Thorin sings him back to sleep both times, with lullabies that he remembers his mother singing to him when he was young, lullabies that he'd once sang to his brother and sister as well.

He vows to himself over and over again that he won't let that night terror become a reality, but a sinking feeling in his gut keeps telling him he will fail.

* * *

He wakes to the smell of sausages sizzling on the stovetop. Sunlight is peeking in from the tiny window in his nephews' room, and Kili's small frame is sprawled across his chest, hands tangled in his sleeping tunic to keep him close. Exhaustion must have taken him, though he doesn't remember falling asleep, and he doesn't feel as though he has rested at all. It comforts him greatly that there were no more dreams.

He disentangles himself from his nephew as gently as possible and tucks the furs back around him, kissing him lightly on the forehead when the boy furrows his brow in obviously displeasure at his uncle's departure.

Guilt chokes at him. Kili _adores_ him, he knows. Balin points it out enough to him, but it's clear to anyone who can see that the lad loves his uncle and brother dearly. He is fiercely loyal to them both, even at such a young age, and he knows that Kili would do anything he asked of him, without question or hesitation. He often wonders if anyone loves as deeply as Kili does, _feels_ things as deeply as he does. He thinks Frerin might have, but he squashes that thought as quickly as it comes. He'd failed Frerin; he would _not_ fail Kili, no matter how similar he thought them to be.

He slips out of the room quietly, and is unsurprised to see Fili at the stove, poking at the cooking links of sausages in the pan. He flashes a bright smile at his uncle when he notices him.

"I hope I didn't wake you," he apologizes, but Thorin waves it off as he pours himself a glass of water from the pitcher. His throat feels tight from crying, and he knows his voice will sound wretched when he speaks.

"Mister Dwalin came by a bit ago," the lad continues, poking a few of the sausages with a fork and removing the ones that he deems cooked enough.

"Did he?" Thorin asks, pleased to her that his voice is not as wrecked as he thought it would be. "Have I slept that late?"

Fili shook his head. "No, it was before dawn. He was going out hunting, but he wanted to know if I could train with him when he gets back. He said you should join us, if the forge was slow again."

"And why were you up so early?" he wondered aloud. Fili flushed lightly, and didn't immediately answer him. "Fili?" he prompted.

"I missed Mum and Da," he answered finally, removing the last few sausages from the stove and dousing the fire from under the heating stone. "I just thought…I had a dream last night and I heard the lullaby that Mum used to sing to me, and when I woke I just wanted to see them, and I couldn't get back to sleep," he explained.

Thorin sighed, noticing the old book that lay open to the drawing of his sister on the table. "I am afraid that may have been my fault," he answered. "I sung one that I remembered from my own childhood to Kili to help him fall back asleep."

"You mean you remember it?" Fili exclaimed, excitement taking over his features. "I always liked it, but I could never remember the words."

Thorin smiled softly, and squeezed the boy's shoulder. "I will teach it to you, then," he murmured. "But I suppose we'll need to rouse your brother. He'll be cross if we let his breakfast grow cold."

Fili nodded, knowing far too well how Kili's temper tantrums could make for a rough start of the day. "I'll go get him, Uncle!"

He chuckled lightly as the boy all but ran back to his room to get his brother, before he focused his attention on the book on the table. He missed his sister dearly, and it was nice to see her face once in a while, even if the only way he could was through the sketch. He flipped over to the picture of her husband, and smiled fondly.

The boys were a perfect blend of their parents. Fili so strongly resembled the line of Durin, with the shape of his face and the blue of his eyes, though his hair coloring was all from his father. Kili was a miniaturized version of his father in appearance, russet eyes and all, but he had inherited Thorin and Dis' inky black locks. Fili had inherited much of his mother's spirit, was stubborn like his Uncle, and kind like his father. Kili was as loving as his father, and had gotten his mother's quick-wit and steadfast loyalty. Unfortunately, he was also prone to brooding like his Uncle.

He had just clearing the book from the table and returning it to it's proper place on the shelf (a low enough one, where both lads could easily reach) and was placing the plates of food on the table, when Fili returned with Kili settled on his hip, still looking very much asleep. Thorin couldn't help but chuckle. The blond started to deposit his little brother on a chair, but the boy just groaned and clung tighter to him. Ultimately, Fili just sighed and sat in his own chair, settling Kili on his lap and digging into his breakfast, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to dine with his brother asleep in his lap.

Thorin can't help the barking laugh that escapes him.

The last wisps of his dream fade away. He is still afraid that he will fail the lads one day, but he decides to focus on the time that he has with them _now_.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed it! Part 2 will be up soon.


	4. Thirteen and Eight - Part Two

AN – Woohoo! Here's part 2. This chapter takes place on the day after Thorin has that pesky little dream. Thank you so much for the review, favorites, and story alerts. Y'all make me so happy.

Just an FYI, I am going to have spotty to no internet for the next week and a half, so don't expect any updates for a couple of weeks! I promise I haven't abandoned this (in face, chapter 5 is almost finished!).

Follow me on tumblr! displacedhobbit dot tumblr dot com.

I still own nothing. Enjoy!

Warnings: Mild violence, angsty Durins.

* * *

**Greater than Gold**

Chapter 4: Thirteen and Eight – Part 2

By Displaced Hobbit

* * *

"You did well, laddie," Dwalin praised as they were neared the town, noticing how Fili still pouted. "It was your first hunting outing, first time with throwing knives, no less!"

"I still didn't kill anything," he muttered, kicking a stone as he walked. "You and Uncle got everything you went after! I didn't even come close!"

Thorin laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It'll come in time, Fili. As Dwalin said, it was your first outing. You have many years to improve on your skills."

"Besides," Dwalin added, "that was a rubbish spot for hunting. Naught more than squirrels and birds in the entire place! And if it weren't for those storm clouds coming in, we would have stayed out there all day and you'd have caught something for sure."

"You still killed plenty," Fili muttered, casting a wary glance up at the darkened sky. It was unnatural for the sky to be so foul when it was barely past midday.

"Fili," Thorin warned gently, thoroughly fed up with his nephew's sulking. Too much like himself, Fili was sometimes, wanting to be the best on his first try, not accepting anything less.

Fili gave him a sheepish look, and murmured a "Sorry, Uncle," under his breath.

Abruptly, Dwalin stopped them, and cast a concerned glance at Thorin. "Do you hear that?"

Thorin strained his ears, but still heard nothing, so he shook his head.

"I thought I heard…well, we should be able to hear all of the ruckus from the marketplace by now, should we not?" he asked, and Thorin's heart sank into his stomach.

He knew in his gut that Dwalin was right; they _should_ be able to hear something, storm clouds or no. Men and dwarrows were both selfish, no one would think to start closing up their shops and packing things away until the storm was completely upon them, if they could help it.

"Everyone has probably gone inside because of the clouds," Fili offered, but he started to walk again at a much faster pace, Thorin and Dwalin immediately falling into step with him. Dwalin eventually broke out into a run, and Thorin followed suit. Fili tried to, but he couldn't keep up, and he called after his uncle in an exasperated tone. They started running past the smaller houses on the outskirts of the town, headed toward the main street and the marketplace. The two elder dwarrows stopped in their tracks as soon as they reached it, and Fili was finally able to catch up to them. He started to ask what was going on, but his words died in his throat as he took in the scene before him.

The street was littered with bodies of men and goblins, streaks of red and black blood painting the stone a grisly tone.

Thorin and Dwalin drew their swords, but Fili stood grounded to the spot. "What…" he murmured, trying to comprehend the scene in front of him. This was nothing like the drawings of battle and victory found in his Uncle's books. This was his _home_, and there was death and blood and _goblins _and it didn't make any sense.

"Fili, draw your sword and stay behind me," Thorin commanded, using a tone he had never heard before, and Fili immediately obeyed, though he fumbled with his sword as he did. Dwalin made some kind of animal call that he couldn't recognize, and a moment later, a door creaked open to reveal Balin's anxious face.

"Get in here!" he called, waving a frantic hand. "Quickly!"

They obeyed immediately, and as soon as they were inside, Balin bolted the door shut. They were in Bofur and his brother Bombur's home, though neither of the brothers seemed to be present.

"What happened?" Thorin demanded, eyes taking in Balin's bloodstained clothes warily, nodding at the other dwarrows that stood huddled about.

"Filthy goblins," he muttered, tone darker than Fili had ever heard it. "The clouds must have made it dark enough for them to come out. Bombur thought they might have been hiding in the caves nearby. The men haven't been patrolling so we've no way of knowing. They just burst straight into the marketplace like this was their own town. Most of the men didn't stand a chance." He sighed heavily. "And they've been coming in waves. Every time we think we've felled them all more come round."

"And where is Bombur?" Dwalin asked, glancing out the window.

"In the back," he sighed. "I had some of the younger ones in the marketplace for their lessons, and they're back there too. He's keeping them company."

"Kili?" Fili asked, immediately starting to walk to the hallway.

"He's not here," Balin sighed warily.

Thorin felt a cold dread of panic as he watched Fili look up at his longtime friend with wide eyes. "Where is he?" he asked, voice shaking.

"He was with Bofur, in the market," Balin groaned. "We haven't been able to make it that far yet. When the goblins come, they're coming from that side."

Dwalin scoffed. "Then why are we hiding inside like cowards?"

"The _children_," his brother scolded in return. "They're frightened and separated from their parents; we are trying to keep them calm."

"Fili can keep them calm," Thorin commanded. "The rest of us with go out and meet them as they come, should there be more, and if there aren't, we'll flush them out of their caves and slay them all."

"But Uncle!" Fili started to protest. He wanted to go and fight too. "I need to find Kili!"

Thorin squatted down so he was eye level with his nephew. "I need you to do this for me, Fili. I will find him; I promise you." He cupped the boy's chin when he vigorously shook his head. "I promise," he repeated, desperate to soothe the boy.

A curdling goblin call sounded from outside the house, and without a second thought, Dwalin was dragging Fili to the back room, hollering for Bombur to come to arms. The door slammed shut and Fili suddenly found himself surrounded by three dwarfling lads, all close to Kili's age, completely lost as to what to do.

* * *

Kili whimpered at the sounds of the shop front being torn apart, at the clash of metal on metal and the screams of men and goblin alike. They had just been sitting outside, Kili working on another carving as Bofur gave him gentle pointers, when the goblins descended. Bofur had immediately grabbed for the lad and pulled him close, disappearing into the shop and hiding them in an empty cellar under the floorboards where he stored his extra toys and supplies.

"Shhh," the dwarf soothed, rubbing his hands in circles across the dwarfling's back. "You must be quiet, lad," he murmured, directly into Kili's ear. "We mustn't let them know you are down here."

The boy nodded, shaking violently against the toymaker's chest. Bofur pitied him, he knew the lad had to be traumatized. The goblins' first kills had happened not more than ten feet away from them. He brought one hand up to card through the boy's hair, shushing him once more. The lad was much too young to see such bloodshed, such violence.

Dwarrows pride themselves on their skill as warriors. But because of their long lives, and their long childhoods, they tried to keep their dwarflings away from the true horrors of bloodshed for as long as possible. The first time Bofur remembered seeing death was when he was nearly thirty, and it had haunted him for weeks afterward. Kili was only eight, far, far too young for such violence.

A loud crashing sounded from above them, and he knew that the goblins must be rummaging through his store, looking for who knows what. He kept one arm firmly locked around Kili and reached for his mattock with the other. If it weren't for the lad curled up against his chest, he would be out in the marketplace killing every goblin in sight, but he knew he couldn't leave the lad alone. He'd grown much too fond of Kili in the past few months, since the boy had started to take an interest in woodworking. Not to mention that his protective instincts as a big brother had kicked in the moment he'd seen the fear in the lad's eyes as the goblins came pouring into the street.

There was also the small matter that Thorin would probably skin him alive if anything happened to Kili while he was in his care.

Another crash comes from directly above their heads, and Kili starts violently against him, but doesn't make a sound. Bofur realizes with a sinking feeling that the goblins have probably knocked over the heavy shelves that line the back of his shop. Based on where the crash sounded from, he wagers that the shelf would have fallen directly on top of the panel in the floor they are hidden under.

They're trapped. Safe from the goblins, but almost assuredly trapped in the cellar. Perhaps he can chop their way out with his mattock, but he doesn't dare try while the sounds of battle keep raging on from above him. Bombur would be able to figure out where he had hidden them, and he hoped that his little brother was putting up a good fight, along with the rest of the dwarrows.

The men in this town were woefully unprepared for such an onslaught, he knew. Their fighting skills were abysmal at best, and most of them did not even own swords, despite the fine forge that Thorin and Dwalin ran. There was a small group of men that were responsible for patrolling the village and it's outlying lands, but no goblins had been sighted in these parts for years, and the men had stopped doing them. It would be the dwarrows that would need to come and save them, few as they were.

The sounds of the fight above them begin to die out, he hears shouting in the distance for only a moment, then all falls eerily quiet.

With a sigh of relief, he sets his mattock down. It sounds as though the goblins have been driven back, and he thinks it might be safe enough to try the door to see if they are well and truly stuck. He pulls away from Kili, even as the lad grabs at his jacket to keep him close.

"I want you to stay right here, lad," he murmurs softly. "I just want to see if it is safe to come out." He cannot make out any of the expression on the boy's face in the darkness of his cellar, but the small hands eventually let go of him. He stands up gingerly, making sure that he doesn't strike his head on the low ceiling. His fingers run along the ceiling, feeling for the hinge to make sure he pushes in the right place. When he is able to push, he is disappointed to find that there is something blocking the door, and he cannot budge it, even with all of his strength.

With a sigh, he begins to poke at the wood above him with his mattock. He doesn't know what blocks the door, and he is wary about hacking away at it, since he doesn't know what might fall in on them. Ultimately, he decides to wait and see if Bombur comes for them, and he'll break the ceiling down as a last resort if they have to. He plops back down to the floor gracelessly, accidentally kicking over a bucket of tools that makes an alarmingly loud clattering sounds and sends Kili scrambling back to him.

"I'm sorry, laddie," he mumbles as he tucks the boy in against his side. "It looks like we're going to wait here for Bombur to come and fetch us." He feels Kili nod against his side, but the boy still trembles, so he resumes rubbing circles against his back. He wishes he had grabbed a lantern on their way in; it would be easy to distract the boy with woodworking, or playing with some of the toys that were stored in the cellar, but it was far too dark.

* * *

Fili settles on telling them stories to keep them distracted. If it were Kili, and just Kili, he would sing to his brother the songs their family had brought with them from Erebor, but that feels strangely private. Most of the youngsters hang on to his every word, even though he has sure they will have heard all of his stories from Balin already, and for that he is grateful.

The sounds of battle have faded from outside. Fili doesn't know if his uncle has defeated all of the goblins as he'd promised, or if they were just waiting for another wave to come. He was sick to his stomach with worry for Kili, and sometimes he would find himself distracted and his stories would trail off before the younger dwarrows begged for him to continue.

He thinks of how, a few hours ago, he sat with Kili on his lap and tried to help him read, of how his little brother had grown frustrated with his inability to sound out the words and started to cry, of how he'd shushed the boy and calmed him with praise and reassurance, of how he has always been the one who could calm Kili the best. And now he did not know where his brother was, if he was alone or not, or if he was scared (though he imagined he must be), and he wouldn't be with him to help calm him down or to reassure him. He wasn't _there_, and he'd promised Kili he always would be.

He'd _promised_, and he'd let his little brother down.

* * *

"Have I ever told you about the time Bombur ate all of the pies our mum made for social?" Bombur asks, perking up a bit when the boy shakes his head no.

He chuckled, happy to find something he could use to distract the lad. He'd grown very still and quiet after the second wave of orcs had come through.

"She was cross for days. It was back when we lived in Slaton, when our Da worked in the old mines there. Mum had worked for days making all of these pies for the town social, _slaved_ over them, and they were the best pies in all of the Blue Mountains! Bombur and I had been out practicing our fighting with our Da, and when we came home, he just saw all of those pies and started _eating_!" He poked Kili in the stomach, causing the boy to giggle lightly. "He ate and he ate and he _ate_. Da and I would have stopped him, but we figured he couldn't do too much damage while we were washing up, so we left him to it. Came out from the washroom and he'd eaten every last one! Licked the pans clean, too! He'd gotten himself such a bad stomachache that he was still rolling around on the floor when Mum came home from the market. I thought she was going to explode! Made him clean dishes for weeks, she did." He laughed at the memory. "But of course, you and your brother never get in to such trouble!"

Kili laughed at that. The boys _did_ tend to get into trouble, but it was usually Fili's doing. The lad had grown a rather mischievous streak as of late and was always playing pranks on others when the mood suited him. Kili would always do what his older brother told him to, since he admired him so much, and more often than not the younger dwarrow was typically blamed for their misadventures, though Fili always came to his rescue in the end.

He smiled to himself, glad he was able to cheer the lad up, at least a little.

After a moment, Kili asked in a very small voice, "Did you know my Mum and Da?"

Damn. He had forgotten that the lad had lost his parents when he was far too small to remember them. Perhaps he hadn't managed to cheer up the lad at all.

"I did not," he answered quietly.

"Oh," was all Kili said in response, sounding completely dejected.

"I think I would have liked to," he adds as he pats the boy on his shoulder. "I always hear such nice things about them from Balin and Dwalin. But, you, and your brother, and your Uncle Thorin didn't come to this town until after…" he sighed. "Not yet a year old, you were, just a babe in arms but already the apple of your uncle's eye."

He wants to say more to comfort the lad, but all of his thoughts are cut short when he hears another distinctive goblin call from outside. Kili pulls closer to him as he instinctively grabs for his mattock. It sounds like they are just outside, and for a moment he's terrified of what has happened to the others, to his brother, if the goblins are returning yet _again_.

The sounds of clashing steel and screamed Khuzdul comfort him greatly, as does the fact that the sounds of battle are farther away than they were before, and he breathes a sigh of relief as he sets his mattock back down.

Kili feels no such relief, if his trembling is any indication of his growing distress, so Bofur gathers him up in his arms and rocks the boy carefully. "Don't you worry, lad," he soothes when the boy let's out a quickly muffled sob. "Any minute now, your uncle is going to burst through those goblins and slash them all to the ground."

Kili nods, and Bofur tucks the lad's head under his chin. Silently, he prays to Aule that he's right.

"Follow them to their caves!" Thorin's voice commands. They've slain all of the goblin filth in the marketplace, and he is determined to snuff out any others that may be hiding in the caves. A few goblins are retreating, and he takes a blistering pace to keep up with them.

Still, he cannot help but look into and around Bofur's shop as they pass. The place is an absolute mess and is completely disheveled, and he sees no sign of his nephew or the toymaker. He cannot decide if that makes him glad or anxious. With the memory of the dream so fresh in his mind, he can't help but worry for his youngest sister-son. A nagging voice in his head told him that it was a premonition, that he was already too late, once again, but he squashes it aside as he chases after the goblins.

* * *

They reach the cave quickly, and, much to Thorin's delight, are able to corner the last of the retreating goblins. It was evident that they had used this cave often, it was full of supplies and goblin paraphernalia, but there were no other goblins found in the shallow cave. He took great delight in slaughtering the last few and donning their heads on pikes at the mouth of the cave, a warning to the others to never return to that place, lest they want to invite the wrath of the dwarrows.

He chances a look at the dwarrows that have followed him into battle. Most are completely uninjured, and those who were had only minor scrapes and bruises, but they were all covered in blood, making them look foreboding and menacing. It had been a long time since he had seen any sort of battle, even against the goblins, and he is pleased to see that he, nor his companions, has lost any of their fighting spirit.

"Come on then," Balin says a moment later. "We should check the marketplace for survivors and burn the filth before it soils the streets."

Thorin nods and sets off toward town, Dwalin immediately falling into step behind him. "I did not see him anywhere," the burly warrior supplies, sounding hopeful. "Nor Bofur. I would bet he found them safety."

"We can only hope," he replies, voice tight. "You saw how much damage was done to the shop. We cannot know anything for certain."

His friend eyes him curiously. "You are not often so pessimistic, Thorin."

He winces. He's not, especially not when it comes to his sister-sons, and Dwalin knows him well enough to see that something in him has changed. "I had a dream last night, that I was too late to save him," he explains quickly, not bothering with the details. "It makes me anxious."

Dwalin picked up his pace, and he immediately followed suit. "Not that I am superstitious," he throws over his shoulder before he breaks into a full out run.

Thorin is unsure if their companions are running behind him or not, but he can't seem to care. In no time at all they are back in the marketplace and sifting through the rubble of Bofur's shop, looking for any sign of the pair. He grows more and more frustrated with each place they check, with each place they look and find nothing.

Bombur arrives sometime while they are searching and asks, "Have you checked the cellar?"

"What cellar?" Dwalin snaps, and there is a sudden pounding from underneath him feet.

"Kili?" Thorin calls out, and he hears his nephew's muffled reply. Mentally he berates himself for being so _stupid_ as to not call out for his nephew in the first place.

Bombur rushes to the back of the store and finds the hinge for the cellar, and realizes their predicament quickly. "That case, it needs to be moved," he shouts, pointing at the offending bookcase. "They're trapped," he explains, but Dwalin and Thorin are already hefting the case out of the way before he gets the words out.

Once the door is finally clear, Bombur pries it open, revealing a rather relieved looking Bofur clutching the young dwarf to his chest. Thorin's hands are reaching out desperately, before he can stop himself and get a hold of his emotions. He is supposed to be a leader, supposed to be their _King_; he cannot let them see how much he is truly shaken.

"Uncle!" Kili cries, and he grabs him, pulls him close to his chest and hugs him tight. He is not too late, not this time. The lad is dirty and shaken and scared and crying, but he is alive and well, and that's all he can ask for. Thorin grips him as close as he dares, one hand tangled in the boys disheveled hair, the other arm wrapped firmly around the lad.

"I thought I'd lost you," he confesses into the boy's hair, not noticing how the others have vacated the ruined shop to give them some privacy.

* * *

The door flies open with a bang, and Fili is on his feet, sword drawn and ready to protect the dwarflings behind him.

He breathes a ragged sigh of relief when he sees that it is just Bombur, who smiles apologetically at him. "Come on then, lads!" He calls. "We'll get you something to eat and have you back with your Mums and Das in no time!"

The dwarflings all cheer excitedly and burst from the room before Fili can even sheath his sword. He follows them out, feeling deeply relieved. Bofur claps him on the shoulder once he enters the kitchen and gives him a lopsided grin.

"Had to give your brother and your uncle a moment," he explains, "but they're coming right behind us."

"Were you with him? Kili?" he asks.

"Aye, laddie, I was." The older dwarrow frowned slightly, then leaned down to be at eye level with the lad. "Now I'll be honest with you, since I'm a big brother too," he murmurs, and Fili suddenly feels rather anxious. "He's a right bit scared, Fili. Saw some terrible things before I could get him away. You're gonna need to be strong for him, do you understand?"

Fili nodded, and Bofur patted him on the shoulder the shoulder again.

"Lucky lad he is to have you and your uncle to watch over him," the toymaker admits, before heading back toward the pantry to grab something to snack on.

Fili feels restless and frustrated standing inside the house and watching as dwarrows come to collect their children. He needs to see his brother and his uncle, and he needs to see them _now_, so he waits until Balin isn't looking and slips out the front door to find them.

He runs smack into Dwalin's solid body before falling down on his behind.

The warrior scoffs at him. "You shouldn't be out here laddie," he comments as he helps the boy up. "Your uncle wouldn't want you to see such things."

Fili resists the urge to scream at him. "I _need_ to find Kili!" he shouts, frustration gnawing at him. "I need to see them, Mister Dwalin!" He feels tears pricking at the corners of his eyes but he quickly blinks them away.

Dwalin's stern features shift into something softer, with a whisper of a frown, before he glances back over his shoulder. "They're coming lad," he murmurs, quickly catching Fili when he tries to run around him to see.

"I already saw the bodies!" he complains when Dwalin pulls him back.

"That's not reason enough for you to see them again," he counters before pulling the door open and shoving Fili back inside. The golden haired youth firmly kicks the door when it slams shut behind him, and Balin can't help but notice and laugh at the lad's frustration.

"It's not funny!" he all but wails, but he walks over to Balin immediately when the dwarf beckons him.

"It's not, laddie," he affirms. "This is a hard lesson to learn."

Fili frowns at him. "What are you talking about?"

"You're protective over your brother, aren't you?" he asks, and Fili nods. "And I'll bet you've promised to keep him from harm for all of his days?" he continues, and Fili nods again. "Well the biggest problem, laddie, is that you can't."

"Yes I can!" he immediately protests, and Balin shakes his head.

"You _want_ to," he explains, "and you'll do your very _best_ to. You'll protect him from everything you possibly can, whenever you can, but that won't be everything."

Fili looks at him, completely distraught.

"Think about this, laddie," he murmurs. "Dwalin is my little brother, yes?"

Fili nods.

"When he was a lad I was much like you. I sought to protect him from _everything_. Bad dreams, fights with our Da, orcs and goblins – _everything_. But when he turned ten, when he started his weapons training, all of the sudden he didn't need me to protect him all the time anymore. He was able to protect himself, and in time, he was often the one to protect _me_." Fili's eyes widened. "And that's what happens eventually, with brothers. Dwalin protects me just as much as I do him. The same for Bofur and Bombur, and for your uncles Thorin and Frerin, and one day for you and Kili as well."

Fili shook his head. "But Kili's so _little_, he's so _young_," he starts to argue, but Balin just shakes his head.

"He won't be forever, laddie. Dwalin was once little and young too," he murmurs with a light chuckle, clapping a hand on Fili's shoulder in reassurance. "When he's grown, when you are both grown, you'll have to protect one another. And there will be things that you _can't_ protect him from, no matter how much you want to, and the same will be true for him."

Fili nodded, realization dawning on him. Balin _was_ right, he always was. "Thank you, Mister Balin," he murmured. "I'm sorry I shouted at you."

Balin fixed him with a warm smile. "It's quite alright, Fili! It's been a rather trying day for all of us, I'm afraid."

Fili nodded in agreement and finally settled down in a chair to wait. Balin gave him a reassuring smile as he did, then went outside to join his own brother, who was presumably working to move the bodies from the street. He was just starting to fidget when the door creaked open and his uncle swept into the room, Kili tucked under one arm with his face buried against Thorin's neck.

"Come, Fili," he beckoned with his free hand. Fili was on his feet in an instant and rushed to his uncle's side, where Thorin surprised him by gathering him up in an embrace and balancing him carefully on his other hip.

He knew he should be affronted, that he was too big for such coddling, but he was so relieved at seeing his family reunited that he couldn't be bothered to care. He slung one arm around his uncle's neck and squeezed Kili's shoulder with the other. His little brother looked up at him with wide, scared eyes, and Fili had to stifle the guilt that he felt welling up in his chest. It was as Mister Balin had said; he could not protect Kili from everything, no matter how much he wished he could.

"It's alright now, Kee," he murmured. "Uncle and I will always protect you."

Kili gave him a small smile in return before pressing his face back against Thorin's neck.

"Eyes closed, lads," Thorin murmured as he maneuvered them back through the still open door. Without meaning to, Fili found himself reacting just as his brother had, and pressed closer to his uncle with his eyes tightly closed.

* * *

It was a strange night in their home following the attack.

Kili was incredibly quiet, something that only happened when the lad was sleepy or ill, and it concerned Thorin greatly. He'd gotten them all in a steaming bath as soon as they'd arrive home and scrubbed them all clean. They had made a simple broth for supper, but Thorin and Fili had barely eaten, and Kili hadn't touched his at all.

At nightfall, Balin and Dwalin came by to check on them, informing them all that the dwarrows had set up a watch schedule to keep a look out for more goblins that might try to come through the town. Thorin had volunteered to help, but Kili and Fili both had looked at him with such panicked expressions that Dwalin refused him, saying that they had more than enough able-bodied dwarrows to handle it.

They spent the majority of the evening in the living room, cooped up around the fire. Thorin was reading some of the correspondences he had gotten from their kin in the Iron Hills, a frown firmly set on his face most of the time. For a while, Fili had tried to help Kili with his reading, but Kili was being so still and quiet that he eventually gave up and asked his brother if he could use his hair for braiding practice.

He worked first on his small braids, and was dismayed when they all came out lumpy and uneven.

"I just don't understand how you're so good at this," he muttered as he pulled the braids loose. Kili looked up at him with a small smile, a glimmer of pride glinting in his eyes. "You should show me."

Kili smiled a bit brighter. "Uncle, can I braid your hair?" he asked quietly, voice cracking a bit with disuse. Those were the first words Fili had heard his brother speak all evening, and his heart swelled at the fact that he'd been the one to coax them out of him.

Thorin set the scroll he was reading aside with a small smile, pulling the beads free from his own braids and shaking them out as he came to sit on the floor with his nephews. Kili crawled straight into his lap, but Fili kept a respectful distance and sat off to the side, where he could still see what his brother was doing.

Kili carefully combed through his uncle's hair with his fingers, and Fili did the same, muttering a small apology whenever his fingers caught on a tangle.

"Like this," Kili said quietly as he pulled the appropriate section from behind Thorin's ear. Fili pulled the same section from the opposite side, and watched as Kili separated it into three equal portions before smoothing them all out. It took Fili a moment to do the same, but he eventually was able to. Kili started to braid then, slowly and carefully so that his brother could see. Fili followed all of his motions as exactly as he could. He frowned when they'd finished and compared the two. Kili's, as always, was straight and even and sleek, and Fili's, as always, was a lumpy looking mess.

Fili groaned, and Thorin ran a hand down each of the braids, chuckling lightly when he realized the difference. "You'll have to keep practicing, Fili," he murmured, a smile firmly on his face.

"You fix it," he grumbled, not even bothering to tie of his braid with a bead as he combed the hair back out.

Kili was happy to oblige. He _loved_ being allowed to braid his uncle or his brother's hair; it was something that he was good at, and he always felt so warm and so close to them when he was allowed to. He quickly crafted a matching braid to the one he had already done and tied it off for his uncle. He was rewarded with a kiss to the forehead form Thorin and Fili demanding his turn next.

Thorin smiled as Kili turned himself in his lap and began working on his brother's hair. He doubted that sleep would come easily to any of them tonight, but it warmed his heart greatly to see Kili in high spirits. Seeing such violence so early in life had been known to change young dwarrows for the worse, to make them more fearful and take away their childhood joy. He would hate to see that lost in Kili. He had seen it lost in Frerin, in Dis, watched as joy was replaced with grief and fear.

He was not naïve enough to think that a part of Kili's innocence wasn't lost forever; no, he'd seen the darkness in the lad's eyes when he'd pulled him from Bofur's arms in the cellar, but he held on to hope that the joyous, loving part of his youngest sister-son would remain intact.

As he turned back to his scrolls, he vowed for the hundredth time that day to make sure he never saw the brightness in Kili's eyes go out.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed it! This chapter haunted me for weeks. Please review!


	5. Fifteen and Ten

AN – Hooray! A new chapter! I hate this chapter; I don't really know why. I wrote about four different versions of it, and I hated all of them, and then I had writers block and procrastinated by writing porn instead (oops). Anyway, I'm not completely thrilled with this chapter, but here it is! I hope you all enjoy, and I'm sorry for the wait!

PS: I would still love a beta if you'd like to volunteer as tribute.

Follow me on tumblr! displacedhobbit dot tumblr dot com.

I still own nothing. Enjoy!

Warnings: Sick babies, weirdly angsty writing, probably very bad writing.

* * *

**Greater than Gold**

Chapter 5: Fifteen and Ten

By Displaced Hobbit

* * *

Fili woke before dawn, as he usually did, despite the fact that he had no training sessions with Dwalin and no study sessions with Balin. Usually, on days like this, he would curl up with his brother a drop back to sleep, but today was different. Today was Kili's birthday.

Kili's _tenth_ birthday.

He was probably as excited as his brother was. Kili had wanted his own practice sword as soon as Fili had gotten his five and a half years earlier, had wanted to start his weapons training as soon as his brother had, and today was finally the day. Granted, Kili was still a bit on the small side, and there was no way he'd even be able to put up a fair fight against his brother for _years_, but he still couldn't deny how uncontrollably excited he was that they would be able to train together.

As quietly as he could, Fili slipped out of the bed, wincing as his feet hit the cold stone of the floor. They had moved away from the small village they had lived in after the goblin attack just over a year before. Dwalin and Balin had accompanied them, as they always had, and Bofur and Bombur had come too. They had moved into a rather large dwarrow settlement farther up in the mountains, one where Bombur and Bofur's cousin, Bifur, lived, as well as a few of Thorin's own distant relations. It was the first time that Fili and Kili had ever been so surrounded by their kin, and, for a while, it had been quite overwhelming.

The settlement was founded shortly after the fall of Erebor, and the dwarrows had carved a large, open-air marketplace from a massive cave that had existed on the mountain. Their homes were carved directly into the sides of the cave, sheltered from wind and weather, and safely nestled deep into the core of the mountain, overlooking the rather large town of men that was not more than a half-day's walk away.

They had built an impressive mine, one that harvested gold, silver, and other precious metals from the earth, one that was kept in constant business by the dwarrows and the men who lived below. Thorin and Dwalin had purchased a dilapidated forge once they'd moved into their new home, and with a great deal of work, they'd gotten it up and running. Business was in a constant supply, with plenty of materials provided by the mines and plenty of customers between the dwarrows and the men. It had meant that Thorin spent more time working in the forge and less time at home with his nephews, but they no longer had to worry about being able to pay for their necessities.

Many of the dwarrows in the settlement had fled Erebor with Thorin, over a hundred years ago, and some of them still regarded him as their King and leader, despite their exile and Thorin's nomadic tendencies. It had been strange to Fili and Kili at first, to see people treat their uncle with such respect, when they were so used to seeing men who so obviously looked down on him, and all of their kind, for so many years. They often came asking him for advice, or to help with matters of the settlement, to make decisions for them, and Thorin spent an ever-increasing amount of time tending to his subjects that had not forgotten him.

It had meant that Thorin spent less and less time with them. In truth, Fili hadn't seen their uncle at home in nearly three days; the forge had received a lot of orders in preparation for what promised to be a long winter, and the dwarrows had wanted to organize a better town patrol, and Thorin had been largely busy tending to those matters. He had dropped in on Fili's training the day before, and Kili had said that he'd read him to sleep the night before that, but it was still a large adjustment for the lads who were so used to having their uncle at home so much of the time. Fili'd had to take responsibility for himself and his little brother; though Dwalin or Balin usually made sure they were all right and well fed when Thorin found himself working late.

Fili crept into the kitchen, lighting a few candles as he went to illuminate their otherwise darkened home. He shivered as he got closer to the front rooms; it had been bitterly cold for the past few days, and while the chill did not often reach their rooms in the back of the cavern, it certainly penetrated into the kitchen and the front room like an unwanted visitor. He set about stoking the kitchen fire back to life, intending to make tea for his brother and uncle once they awoke.

He jumped, nearly throwing the kettle of water he had just drawn onto the revived fire, when the front door slammed open, followed by a rush of cold air and some swearing from his uncle. Smiling widely, he rushed out to greet him, and was delighted to see the blanket of fresh white snow through the door before Thorin slammed it shut.

"It _snowed_!" he whisper-shouted excitedly, just barely resisting the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet. Kili _loved_ the snow, _especially_ when he was able to torture their uncle or Mister Dwalin by pelting them with snow balls relentlessly.

Thorin whirled around to look at him, seemingly started to see him awake, before his face melted into a warm smile. "That it did, lad," he confirmed. "Quite a bit, in fact. There's at least a foot in the marketplace."

Fili didn't waste a second to launch himself at his uncle, jumping so that his arms could wrap around the taller dwarf's next and squeeze him tight. "Missed you, Uncle," he murmured into the thick curtain of hair, smiling delightedly when Thorin's arms wrapped around him in return.

"I am sorry," Thorin murmured as he set him back on the ground and busied himself with taking off his coats. "I had not intended to spend so much time away from home."

Fili waved him off. "It's alright! I understand, Uncle, and Kili does, too."

Thorin chuckled lightly and reached down to ruffle Fili's hair. "And what have I done to deserve such patient sister-sons?" he mused before hanging his coat on the wall. "You're up early," he observed, and Fili just smiled.

"I'm too excited to sleep," he explained, following his uncle back to the kitchen, pleased to see that the water had warmed enough to make tea. "It took me _forever_ to get Kili to sleep! But then I got to thinking about how much fun it would be to start training with him, and I could hardly sleep either."

His uncle laughed aloud at that. "I can only imagine. I was much the same way when your Uncle Frerin starting his training."

"Did Uncle Frerin ever beat you in sparring?" Fili asked excitedly. He loved to hear about his other uncle, but he knew better than to ever bring him up. He knew that Frerin had died, young, in a battle alongside Thorin, but no one ever spoke of him outside of that. Sometimes, Thorin would speak of him, and Fili always wanted to know more, but he was careful not to push his luck too far and make his uncle turn the conversation to something else.

Thorin smiled fondly. "Not for a long while, when he was in his forties. And even then he only bested me because I had a cold."

Fili laughed. "Do you think Kili will be able to beat me before he's that age?" he asked as he pulled a tin down from the cabinet, one that contained a wide variety of flavored pastries that Balin had sent home with him after his lessons the day before, explaining to Fili that he'd wanted to have something special for breakfast for the 'birthday lad'. He finished preparing the teas, offering one to his uncle and adding a bit more honey to the one intended for his brother.

His uncle took the tea with a grateful smile. "That's the problem with your little brother," he mused, a smirk pulling at his lips. "He's always full of surprises."

Fili nodded in agreement. "Oh!" he mumbled excitedly. "Can I see his sword?"

"Of course, of course," Thorin replied, striding over to the pantry cabinet and pulling something off of the top of it. It was one of his favorite hiding places for things that he wanted to keep from the lads. Fili was tall enough to reach it (with the assistance of a chair), but respectful enough of his uncle's rules to leave it well enough alone. Kili was still awfully short, barely reaching his uncle's waist, and couldn't even come close to reaching the top, even with the aid of chairs and other furniture (though it wasn't for a lack of trying). He pulled the wooden sword from the cloth it was wrapped in, and handed it to Fili for his approval.

"Did you make it?" he asked excitedly as he appraised the sword in his hands. "You made mine, didn't you?"

Thorin nodded. "It is tradition for your first weapons to be made by a family member, wooden or not. Many people may have abandoned the old ways of Erebor, but I still like to keep with tradition for my own kin."

"That way, when we take Erebor back, we'll know all of the proper traditions and be able to teach them to the other dwarrows!" Fili agreed, smiling widely.

A strange look passed over Thorin's face, one that was a mixture of wistfulness and pride and sadness, before he clapped Fili warmly on his shoulder.

"It's a bit smaller than mine," he observed, running his fingers along the blunted edges, "but I think it's about the same size as Ori's, isn't it?"

"It should be close," Thorin agreed. "I'd imagine that Ori wasn't very tall in his tenth year either."

Ori was one of the dwarrow children that also lived in the settlement, along with his much older brothers Nori and Dori. Ori was fourteen, just a year younger than Fili, and was in most of Fili's lessons with Balin. Because he was tall and quite strong, despite his youth, Fili usually had his weapons training with the older dwarrow children, though he'd heard a lot of teasing comments regarding Ori's lack of skill in Dwalin's training sessions. Like his brother, Ori was a late bloomer, slight and lean and a bit on the short side, for a dwarf.

Fili bit his lip as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Do you think they'll tease Kili too?" he asked, protectiveness for his brother shining through.

Thorin gave him a small smile. "I should think not. You and your brother are of the line of Durin, you're born fighters and warriors; it's in your blood." He chuckled softly.

"And he wants to be like you, so he'll try his very best," Fili murmured in agreement as he handed the sword back to his uncle. "I should go and wake him."

"I'll rouse him," Thorin murmured as he wrapped the sword back in its piece of cloth and set it on the table. "You should enjoy your breakfast. I'm sure you'll need all your strength to keep up with your brother today." Fili laughed lightly as he nodded in agreement.

Thorin slipped back to his nephews' bedroom as quietly as he could manage. Kili was a light sleeper, and he often woke up several times during the time, unable to fall back asleep until he was curled securely against his brother or uncle's side, or until one of the two of them had read or sung him back to sleep. Even as a babe, Kili'd had trouble sleeping, and it had gotten much worse after the goblin attack. He was prone to letting Kili sleep late into the day when he could manage it, but he was sure the lad would mind being woken early this day.

He knelt by the side of the bed before reaching a hand out to card through the lad's hair softly. "Good morning, little Kili," he murmured as bleary brown eyes looked up at him. He'd expected his youngest sister-son to barrel into him with a fierce hug, as the lad was wont to do, but instead Kili just whimpered softly and buried himself back into his furs.

Thorin frowned. Kili was usually easy to wake, and he had thought his nephew would be a bit more excited to see him after his absence for the past few days. To be honest, it hurt a little that Kili had not immediately climbed into his arms; Thorin loved the lad's displays of affection as much as he pretended to be annoyed by them.

He swept a hand across the boy's forehead, frown deepening as he felt the heat there. "Fili!" he called, even as he jostled Kili to try and stir him into wakefulness.

The blond youth poked his head through the doorway, confusion marring his face for a moment. "What is it, Uncle?" he asked, voice hitching with the tiniest bit with concern when he noticed his still slumbering brother.

"Did Kili have a fever when you woke?" he asked, careful to keep any accusations out of his voice. He didn't want Fili getting the wrong impression, didn't want the boy to think that he had failed in taking care of his brother.

Fili frowned and stepped further into the room. "I didn't notice," he murmured. "I was trying to let him sleep, so I left him alone." He watched as his uncle pushed up the fabric of his brother's sleeping clothes, gasping softly at the small red bumps that had popped up on his Kili's skin. "What is that?" he asked, a slight edge of panic in his voice.

Thorin gathered Kili up into his arms, and Fili visibly fretted at the pitiful whine that escaped from his brother's lips. "I think he may have the pox," Thorin murmured softly as he tucked the lad up against his chest, shushing him softly when he whined again. "What did he eat last night?"

Fili bit his lip, remembering. "He didn't eat anything, actually. Mister Dwalin brought some salted pork and ate with us but Kili said he was too excited for food." Fili frowned. "What's the pox, Uncle? Is he going to be alright?"

"It is a sickness common to dwarrow children, though he is a bit old to have it," Thorin explained, extending an arm to wrap around Fili and pull him close to his side. "Most dwarrows get it when they are very small. I had it when I was six, gave it to Frerin before he could even walk." Fili nodded to show he was listening, but his arms reached out to comfort his brother. "You had it when you were three; I was not around, but your mother wrote to me about it."

Kili coughed violently into his uncle's chest, and Thorin bent down to press a kiss against the crown of the lad's head.

"Are we going to get sick too?" Fili asked, voice tinged with worry.

Thorin offered him a warm smile. "No, lad. You can only get the pox once. Kili must have picked it up from one of the other children; it's been a long time since we lived with our own kin."

He nodded, a deep frown falling onto his features. "Will he be alright?" he asked again.

"Aye, he will, with a little medicine from dear old Mister Oin," Thorin confirmed. "Though I should expect he'll be a bit miserable for a few days, at least. Pox usually makes you quite ill to your stomach and gives you a nasty cough."

"But it's his birthday!" Fili bemoaned. "We're supposed to go training and eat sweets and attack Mister Dwalin with snowballs today!"

Thorin sighed lightly as he rose to his feet, keeping Kili close. "And the two of you shall do all of those things, and a great deal other sorts of mischief, I imagine, but not until your brother is well again." Fili frowned. "I daresay you are more disappointed than he would be."

"I'm not!" Fili protested, before his cheeks colored slightly in embarrassment. "I just…I just wanted him to have a birthday that's as special as all of mine have been. It always snows on his, so people can't visit, and none of his favorite foods are anywhere to be found this time of year, and I just wanted…but now it's all ruined" He sighed, heavily.

Thorin knelt down to be eye level with him and clapped his free hand on the lad's shoulder. "Sweet Fili," he murmured. "He will indeed have a special day; I know you will see to that. It will just have to be a little late this year, is all."

Fili still frowned, but nodded anyway.

"But now," Thorin murmured as he stood up straight again. "I'll need you to run and fetch Mister Oin for me." Fili nodded and trudged off to the front rooms. "And make sure you're bundled up properly, Fili! It is quite cold out."

Fili did as he was told, donned both of his coats and his thick winter boots before heading out of their home. He was comforting by the fact that his uncle did not seem overly concerned with Kili's condition, but he was still so upset that Kili had to fall ill on his birthday of all days. He wrapped his arms around himself as he headed out into the cold; the chilled air bit at his lungs, and he shivered involuntarily. Their uncle probably wouldn't have let them come out to play in such cold weather anyway.

Oin and his younger brother Gloin were distant cousins of their uncle. Gloin was a proud warrior, much like Dwalin, and often assisted in the weapons training for the dwarflings. Oin was a physician, the best in all their little settlement, one that Thorin trusted enough with the care of his nephew's. They lived in a house on the far side of the marketplace, with Gloin's new bride Aerona, and Fili hastened his steps to get there faster.

He only encountered a few other dwarrows on his trek; it was too early for most to be awake, and the ones that were seemed to favor staying inside to avoid the chill. He eventually broke into a brisk jog, eager to get out of the cold and reach his destination. He winced slightly as he knocked on their door, hoping that he wasn't intruding on anything or rousing them too early. He hated to be impolite.

The door opened not a moment later, revealing Aerona's smiling face. "Fili, dear! What brings you here so early in the morning?" She ushered him inside her home, and settled him down in a large armchair near the fire, murmuring something about not wanting him to catch cold.

"Kili's sick," he explained, frowning as he did so. "Uncle thinks he has the pox, and he wanted me to come and fetch Mister Oin, ma'am."

She frowned softly. "Poor little dear," she murmured. "It's not any fun to have the pox. I'll go and get him, lad. I imagine he's still sleeping, but he won't mind coming to check on your brother."

Fili nodded his thanks, and she disappeared down the hallway to the back of their home. He occupied himself with taking in the appearance of their home – there were a lot more decorations and embroideries in their sitting rom, and Fili found himself suddenly envious. His mum used to make quilts and tapestries, though he hadn't seen any of them for years, and he suddenly wondered where they had got off to. The only quilt he could think of was the one that was on the bed he shared with his brother, the one she had made for him when he was just a babe. It was hardly big enough to cover him, now, but he still took comfort in holding on to some small piece of his mother.

He missed them, his mum and da, more than he would ever admit to anyone, even Kili. Sometimes he feels guilty, because even though his uncle gave up a lot to take the place of his parents and was raising him as if he were his own, he knew he would never really love Thorin as much as he loved his mum and da. There would always be a hole in his heart; one that Thorin just didn't quite fit in to, though his uncle tried his best to father him. Sometimes he wants to love Thorin like he is his father, but it feels like he betrays his father's memory in doing so, and just the thought of letting someone else replace his da in his heart makes him feel full of guilt.

"He'll be round in just a minute, dear," Aerona announced as she came back into the front room, startling Fili from his thoughts. "I'll fetch you so tea; you look like you could use something warm."

"Thank you," he murmured quietly, eyes focusing back on the fire.

He envied Kili, sometimes. He never knew their parents, all he'd ever known was Thorin, and he loved their uncle with his whole heart, unconditionally. He loved Thorin as though he truly were his father; it was Thorin who had taught him his first word (_Feewee!_), it was Thorin who had taught him to walk (though Fili had helped), it was Thorin who had taught him to read and write (then Balin when he had to fix his brother's mediocre skills). It was Thorin who kissed his scrapes better and Thorin who tended to his hair and Thorin who sang him to sleep. He didn't have to remember his mum and da doing the same things, he didn't have to feel that twisting in his chest when he thought too hard on them, he didn't have to miss them, not like Fili did.

He frowned and shook his head to clear those thoughts. He knew Kili missed them dearly, ever since he had learned they were there to miss. He could recall more than one occasion on which he'd held his crying brother, murmuring words of love and encouragement when he'd whispered, "Do you think Mum would have liked me?" or "It isn't my fault that they're gone, is it?" He couldn't imagine the pain his brother probably felt, missing people that he hadn't ever known.

Still, he envied the love his brother had for their uncle. It was _easy_ to him, natural, to treat Thorin like his father. And Fili knew that Thorin loved him as though he were his own son, though he never spoke about it. For a while, Fili had wondered if his uncle simply loved Kili _more_ that him; he always coddled him, gave him little treats for no apparent reason, snuggled him and kissed him more than he ever had Fili.

Eventually he realized that it wasn't that Thorin loved his brother more, it was that he loved Kili like he were his own son. His uncle had raised the lad straight from his birth, taught him everything he needed to learn. Their bond was different than the one he shared with his uncle. Kili was like his son, and Fili was still his nephew, but both were loved with equal intensity from their elder. In fact, sometimes Kili pouted that their uncle loved _him_ the most, when Thorin spent a large amount of time with him training him to be his heir.

He was drawn from his thoughts as Aerona pressed a warm mug into his hands.

"A bit young to be so thoughtful, hmm?" she asked as she squatted down in front of him. "I wouldn't worry about your brother, dear. All dwarrows get the pox at one time or another, and we're all sad and miserable and grumpy for a few days, but it will pass."

Fili managed a small smile. "I know," he murmured. "I just can't help it sometimes," he admitted.

"You know," she said softly. "I have two little brothers myself. Right young hellions they were once, though I shouldn't say the same for your brother. Always sweet and charming, that one."

Fili laughed. Kili _did_ tend to make that impression on people. He was still young and rather shy around people outside of their little family, and he usually stayed latched to Thorin or Fili (or sometimes Dwalin, which always made him snicker with amusement at his tiny brother attached to the hulking warrior), only speaking when spoken to and always being as polite as Fili was.

"He just doesn't know you well enough to cause any mischief," Fili mumbled, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I should expect not," she agreed, a smile tugging at her lips again.

At that moment, Oin rounded the corner into the sitting room, already dressed in his coat and carrying a rather large bag, eyeing Fili tiredly. "I hear we've got a spot of the pox, perhaps?" he asked, and Fili nodded as he stood, handing his mug back to Aerona and fixing her with a grateful smile.

"You'll have to tell me about your brothers some other time," he murmured apologetically, but she just waved him off.

"Well come on then, lad," Oin said a bit gruffly, clearly disgruntled at being woken earlier than he intended. "Let's get your brother taken care of so I can get back to sleep!"

"Yes, sir," Fili agreed as he pulled the door open for the older man, who nodded in thanks. "I'm sorry we had to come and get you so early."

"It's not a bother, lad," Oin replied, wincing at the cold wind as it hit him when they stepped outside. "Just had to be up late with Missus Cora's babe; this cold weather doesn't agree much with him."

Fili scoffed. "I shouldn't expect this agrees much with anyone, really."

Oin laughed heartily. "Quite right, laddie," he agreed as they walked swiftly across the marketplace. "When did your brother start feeling ill?" he asked, shifting into his physician's mode easily.

"Uncle noticed his fever just before I came to fetch you," he explained. "He has spots all on his belly, so he thought it might be pox. He didn't eat anything for dinner last night, but he didn't say that he felt ill; he just said he was excited for his birthday."

Oin tutted quietly under his breath. "Has he been sick at all?"

Fili shook his head. "He hasn't." Oin frowned at that, and he felt a tiny bit of panic well up inside of him. "What's wrong?"

The physician quickly covered his frown with a smile and patted Fili's shoulder comfortingly. "Nothing, my boy, I assure you! Normally you're sick first, then the fever, then the spots, is all."

"I mean, he could have been sick and just not told me," Fili reasoned before shaking his head. "But even if I was asleep he would have woke me or Uncle. He's terribly clingy when he's sick."

Oin barked out a laugh. "Terribly clingy when he's not, that one. Never seen a dwarf as affectionate as he is." Fili had to laugh in agreement.

They finally arrived back home, only to find Thorin seated on the floor in the middle of their sitting room, with a shaking and sobbing Kili retching into a pot on his lap. Thorin looks immensely relieved to see his distant cousin walk into their home, and for a split second Fili wondered if his uncle was really more worried than he had let on.

"So I see that has started then, hmm?" he asked as he removed his coat and crouched next to Thorin, who merely nodded as he pushed Kili's sweaty fringe from his forehead when the lad collapsed back against his chest.

Fili hovered back, watching the three with interest. He was unnerved at seeing his uncle unsettled; it was so rare that Thorin showed any emotions aside from his affection for them, and he did not like the worried look in Thorin's gaze one bit.

"Good morning, Kili!" Oin greeted cheerfully as he settled himself on the floor. "And a most happy birthday to you, lad. I am sorry you're sick," he murmured as he swept a hand across Kili's forehead, feeling how high the fever had gotten. "Do you mind if I take a look at your spots?"

Kili frowned, but shook his head anyway, allowing Oin to do his work. Fili was struck by how pale and tired his brother looked; it had been a long time since either of them had been ill, and he couldn't remember his brother ever looking so _miserable_ before. He frowned when Oin lifted his brother's shirt, and saw how large and red the bumps had become.

"Do they itch?" he asked aloud, and Kili seemed to finally focus on him, to notice him for the first time.

His younger brother reached out a hand toward him as he shook his head. "Fee," he whined, truly one of the most pitiful sounds he had ever heard, and Fili found himself settled down next to his uncle, his brother's hand firmly grasped in his.

"They might start to itch," Oin warned, "but you mustn't scratch! If you do, they could get infected, and then you'll have nasty pox scars and even nastier medicine to take." Kili nodded, but Oin fixed Thorin with a stern gaze. "You wrap his hands to keep him from itching, if you have to," he ordered, and Thorin simply nodded.

Kili whimpered and lunged forward to retch into the pot again, sobbing when he heaved and nothing came out. Fili placed a comforting hand on his brother's back and rubbed in small circles as the boy dry-heaved for several long moments.

"Definitely a touch of the pox," Oin concluded once he'd finished his examination, giving the family what he hoped was a reassuring nod. "I'll mix you up some tea that will help him sleep and some ointment you can use on the spots if they itch. He should be back to normal in a few days; a week at most, I should think." He rose and took his bag with him into the kitchen to mix up the medicines.

Kili turned and curled up against his uncle's chest, groaning as he did so. "Hurts," he mumbled.

Thorin pushed the hair back from his face again. "I know it does, little one," he soothed. "But it will only last a couple of days." He pressed a kiss against the lad's fevered temple.

"Does this mean I don't get to train?" he mumbled as his eyes drooped shut. "Mister Dwalin said…he said we had to start on our tenth if we wanted to be warriors but I don't think I can."

Thorin glanced over at Fili and let his eyes flicker to the table where Kili's sword still lay. In an instant, Fili was on his feet to retrieve the gift.

"Of course you'll get to train," he murmured. "It's too bloody cold for Mister Dwalin to leave his house and train with you anyhow. I'll bet he's cooped up in front of his own fire wrapped in all his furs," he added with a chuckle. "When you are well again I'll start your training myself; does that sound fair?"

"And you'll learn how to use this!" Fili exclaimed happily as he sat back down, thrusting the practice sword into his brother's hands.

Kili perked up a bit at the sight of his own sword, small hand grasping at the hilt as he testing its weight in his hands as he held it out in front of himself experimentally. He was already feeling the strain of his illness, and his hands shook with exhaustion even with the sword's slight weight. Thorin reached around him and gently grasped his wrist to keep them stable.

"It's prefect," he breathed as he turned back to face his uncle to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, uncle," he murmured before dissolving into a coughing fit and slumping back against Thorin's chest. His elder shushed him softly, rubbing his back comfortingly.

Fili gently pulled the practice sword from his hands and set it on the nearby armchair, watching the pair with a pensive look on his face. He couldn't quite decipher the look in Thorin's eyes, and it made him a bit concerned that his uncle seemed unwilling to let Kili out of his arms.

"All right, laddie," Oin called as he came back into the room, a steaming mug of tea in his hand. "It's off to bed with you." He handed the mug to Kili, and the boy took an experimental sip before grimacing.

"S'nasty," he mumbled, but obediently took another sip after a stern look from the physician. It took him a few moments to finish the medicine, and when he did Oin patted him on the head before collecting his mug and the pot he had been sick in, disappearing to the kitchen once more.

Kili coughed again, weakly, and for a moment he looked so green that Fili rushed into the kitchen to grab another pot should he be sick again, but it passed and he was soon sound asleep, slumped against his uncle with his thumb lodged firmly in his mouth. Once he was sure his brother was asleep, Fili tugged on his arm to pull the digit free; he was getting to be too old for such a habit.

Oin returned from the kitchen and handed Thorin a small jar. "This is the ointment, should you need it. It will help with the itching and fight any infections he might wind up with from scratching. I've left a few satchels of tea to help him sleep on your table. Give hime one dose in the morning and one in the evening, no more." Thorin nodded his consent. "Should he get worse, you should call on me again, but I would expect him to be well in a few days time."

"Thank you, Oin," Thorin said, extending a hand for his distant cousin to shake. "I am in your debt."

The older dwarf waved his hand, indicating that no thanks were necessary. "Anything for my king and his boy," he said, giving them a soft smile. "Though I should like to return to my bed, if it's all the same to you."

"Go, go," Thorin commanded, chuckling lightly.

Fili stood and walked the physician to the door, bestowing his thanks on him once again, shivering when the cold air bit at his skin again. When he returned to the sitting room, he found his uncle idly carding his hand through Kili's hair, but he looked to be a million miles away. Hesitantly, he sat back down next to them, smiling fondly at his brother's soft snores, before laying a hand on Thorin's arm.

"Are you alright, uncle?" he asked, causing the older dwarf to jump slightly before he focused on him.

"I…"he started, then frowned. "I am just feeling sentimental, I suppose." His arms tightened almost imperceptibly around his nephew's slumbering form. "It has been a very long time since I needed to care for a sick dwarfling."

Fili wondered whom it was that Thorin had cared for. He couldn't remember a time when he or Kili had been sick, really sick, and needed a lot of extra attention. Most of the illnesses that afflicted them barely lasted a day, and almost none of them ever required any medicines, just a bit of sleep and then they were good as new.

"Frerin fell ill often," he continued, answering Fili's unasked question. "I find myself thinking about him more and more these days. Kili is much like him, in spirit."

At the mention of his name, Kili stirred weakly against his chest, but Thorin quickly soothed him back into sleep by humming quietly. For a while, they sat there, on the floor of their sitting room, nestled together. Fili did not ask more questions about his other uncle, and Thorin volunteered no more information.

After a while, Fili broke the quiet with what he'd thought was a harmless question.

"Where we your coming from, this morning? You weren't working at the forge all night, were you?" His voice held a tint of concern to it.

Thorin sighed, shoulders sagging with some weight that Fili did not understand. "I had thought…there were signs, indicating that the dragon may have gone from the mountain, that we may soon be able to return to Erebor." Fili's eyes widened with excitement. "But Balin came to rouse me early this morning. Word had come that the dragon was alive and well, burning the eastern woods before barricading himself back inside." His voice was tinted with a bitterness that Fili hadn't heard often.

Fili groaned in frustration for his uncle. He knew how much Thorin wanted to reclaim their homeland, and he had no doubts that they would one day do so, but there was not much one dwarf could do against the might of a dragon, so they had to wait until fate was on their side.

"I promise you," Thorin whispered as he wrapped an arm around Fili's shoulders. "I promise both of you that you will see your home some day soon. You will be princes of Erebor, as you were meant to be. You will have your home again."

Fili nodded and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat as an unexpected wave of emotion surged through him. "We already have a home, uncle," he murmured quietly. "It's with you."

He didn't dare look up to see what emotions played about Thorin's face, but he guessed from the shuddering sigh and the kiss pressed to his temple that his uncle had tears in his eyes. "My sweet, wonderful boys," his uncle murmured as he hugged him closer. "I would be lost without you."

* * *

In all, it takes Kili a week to get over the pox. He spends most of the week asleep in Fili's lap while he reads or practices braiding his brother's dark hair. Despite the cold, and news of the lad's illness, he has many visitors on his birthday.

Ori comes and chats excitedly about Kili joining his weapons training. The older dwarfling doesn't plan on becoming a warrior, not like Fili and Kili, so he still spends his time learning the basics with a practice sword, and hasn't moved on to mastering specific weapons like Fili has, and he is excited to have someone new to spar with.

Bofur brings him some carved toys, a dragon and a dwarf warrior that Fili thinks looks suspiciously like their father, and sits with him for a while, letting Kili slay the dragon until he starts coughing too much again, and then leaves him to let him sleep.

Dwalin doesn't come out in the cold, just as Thorin had predicted, but Balin brings him a book that has pictures and information about all of the plants and animals that live in the woods outside their home. Kili asks him a thousand questions, until his voice is slurred with exhaustion and Balin takes his leave.

Bombur brings him a helping of soup that he claims will have him cured in hours, but Kili retches it back up not two minutes after the large dwarf left their home, and the three swiftly decide to never let the redhead know what happened to his favorite meal.

Kili demands to be allowed to start his weapons training the day his spots disappear, and for a while, Thorin hesitates. He can see that the lad had lost some weight from his illness, and he is wary of stressing the boy too much when he is only just well, but Dwalin placates the boy by agreeing to teach him the proper stances and leave the heavy work for another day.

Thorin finds himself watching with an amused smile as Dwalin shows him the appropriate stances, watches his brown eyes brim with adoration when he sees Fili perfectly execute a move, sees how both of their cheeks are flushed with excitement. He finally feels relaxed; Kili illness had made him immensely concerned, for reasons that he did not fully comprehend. He had seen dwarflings with the pox a number of times, had taken care of Dis when she'd had it. Seeing Kili so frail and weak must have drudged up memories of that awful dream he'd had, memories of Frerin, and that, combined with the news that the dragon was still alive and well and squatting on him home had stirred up a mix of emotions that he hadn't truly known how to deal with.

It isn't until Kili is excitedly tugging on his hand, dragging him into the sparring arena to demonstrate some stances with Dwalin that he drags himself out of his depressing thoughts. Fili's words from a few days before spring back into his mind, and he wonders if maybe, _maybe_ those words could be true for him as well.

"_We already have a home, uncle. It's with you."_

* * *

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.


	6. Twenty and Fourteen

AN – Wow. I just…wow. I am so overwhelmed by the love you guys show me; seriously! I am so glad that you're loving this story and all of my favorite head cannons for these babies, and I am happy to bring you a brand spakin' new chapter!

PS: Thank you for my dear friend Captain America (no tumblr or account, boo) for the beta read. We've been friends since middle school when we wrote super gay, super smutty Gundam Wing fics!

Follow me on tumblr! displacedhobbit dot tumblr dot com.

I still own nothing. Enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, mean little dwarflings, awkward Dwalin and super protective Thorin, mild violence.

**Greater than Gold**

Chapter 6: Twenty and Fourteen

By Displaced Hobbit

"Have you decided what weapon you would like to specialize in?" Thorin asks idly as they are walking back to the settlement. Fili has just turned twenty, and he has spent the last ten years learning how to maneuver and fight with all types of weapons. It is typically around a dwarfling's twentieth year that they choose one to be their weapon of choice in battle. Those who aim to be warriors continue their training with that specific weapon until they reach their majority, and those who do not begin learning whatever craft they choose instead, while still attending weekly training sessions.

"Mister Dwalin really wants me to take up the axe," he replies. "But I think I'd like to stick with the sword. Twin swords, perhaps, if I can manage it."

Thorin can't help the swell of pride that he feels at his nephew's statement. Fili, despite his youth, has already shown all of the makings of a great warrior. He fights as fluidly as he has ever seen, and his instincts in battle (however mock they may be) are almost on par with Dwalin's. He had flourished in his lessons with Balin, was smart and patient and kind, but stern when necessary, with maturity well beyond his years. He would be a great king one day, Thorin knew without a doubt.

"I think you'd be able to manage the twin swords just fine," he says, trying to sound nonchalant about it, but Fili picks up on the pride in his voice and flashes him a bright smile, nudging him with his shoulder as he walks.

They'd travelled down from the settlement the day before, to deliver some of the goods Thorin and Dwalin had crafted at the forge to the town of men below. It was the first time Thorin had ever brought him along on business, but Fili supposed it was because he was due to start learning to ways of the forge, and Thorin wanted to start exposing him to what his work would entail.

Kili had pouted and whined at being left behind to stay with Dwalin and Balin, but if Fili was honest with himself, he had been grateful for the respite from his little brother, even if it were the first time they were apart from one another for an entire night. It was rare that he and Thorin were able to spend any time alone together, and he quite liked their easy conversations and comfortable silences that came when Kili was not around. It wasn't to say that he didn't adore his little brother any longer – he did, he really did – but there weren't many dwarflings close to Kili's age, and he hadn't made hardly any of his own friends (save for Ori, but he had been Fili's friend first), so he spent a great deal of time trailing after his older brother.

At first, it hadn't bothered him at all, but then he became aware of the teasing looks his friends would pass one another when they saw Kili trailing behind him, saw how his friends would exclude him from some activities because they didn't want Kili to come along. It wasn't his brother's fault, not really, they'd never lived around their own kind before coming to this settlement, and all they'd had was each other. But as he grew older, he found himself itching for independence, but he wasn't sure how to get it without hurting Kili's feelings.

"You awfully thoughtful," Thorin observed as he urged their pony off the path for a rest, and Fili flushed lightly in embarrassment.

"Did you ever…" he started, as Thorin handed him a small container of stew they had purchased in the town before leaving. "Oh, never mind."

Thorin raised an eyebrow. "Never mind what, lad?" he asked gently.

Fili sighed, trying to come up with the right words. "I know you loved Uncle Frerin," he said quietly, taking note of the way his uncle tensed at the mention of his brother's name. "But did you ever wish that he would just leave you be? I just…there aren't any other dwarrows close to Kili's age, other than Ori and me, but he's just…he's always following me around, trying to do what I want to do, and sometimes I wish he'd just leave me alone."

Thorin nodded. "I suppose I felt that way for a time, but things were different in Erebor than they are here; there were many more children around, and we had your mother." An uncommonly soft smile graced his lips. "I do remember him becoming bothersome, but then your mother came along, and he decided that he wanted to be 'as great a big brother as Thorin,' and he spent much of his time with her, when I was your age."

Fili sighed heavily. "I just wish he had his own friends," he muttered. Upon glancing back up at Thorin's face, and noticing the stern look he was receiving, he corrected himself. "I _love_ him, Uncle, you know that I do, but I…"

"You want to be your own dwarf, and you don't know how to do that with Kili constantly around," he finished for him.

"Exactly!" he agreed. "And I don't want to hurt his feelings; I would rather die than do that."

"Perhaps I will speak to him when we return," Thorin offered. "He does need to learn to be without you, without me, but I suspect it will be a hard lesson for him."

"Maybe that would help," Fili agreed. "Thank you, Uncle."

Dwalin frowned, watching as Ori was very close to besting Kili in their sparring match. Kili may not have been as fluid of a fighter as his brother or uncle, but he was still quite talented, far more talented than Ori, and he should have been easily winning their match. Ori swings his wooden sword at Kili's legs, sending the younger lad toppling to the ground with a frustrated huff. The point of Ori's sword is immediately at the lad's sternum, as he happily demands that Kili yield.

It has been a long time since Ori has won a sparring match, since he is often paired with Kili, and Dwalin allows himself a small smile as he watches a grin split across his young face, talking excitedly with Kili as he reaches a hand down to help the smaller lad up. Kili gives him a pat on the back and a strained smile, and Dwalin decides that the boys have had enough sparring for the day.

"Nicely done, Ori," he calls, and Ori gives him the most pleased expression while Kili looks at the ground, ashamed. "I think that's enough for you today; run along home, lad."

Ori does as he's told, and Kili trudges over to him, shoulders hunched and eyes fixed firmly on the ground. Dwalin knows he is expecting a tongue lashing, and he's half determined to give it to him. He wants to remind him that he is of the line of Durin, is second in line for the throne, and that he must take his training seriously, but the snickers from some of the older dwarrows, ones that usually train with Gloin, from across the arena change his mind. The lad probably feels embarrassed enough, and he feels no need to humiliate him further.

"Come on, lad," he mutters softly. "Let's go practice with your throwing knives and call it a day."

"M'tired," Kili complains, but follows obediently. Dwalin was well aware of the fact that the lad hadn't slept at all the night before; he'd overheard him confessing as much to Balin that morning, saying that he couldn't sleep without Fili or his uncle. He felt a pang of sympathy for the boy; he could remember when he'd been absolutely unable to fall asleep until his mother had read him a story, or sang him a lullaby, or simply sat with him, and he hadn't been much older than Kili when he'd started to grow out of that phase. He was sure it had been hard to spend his first night away from both of them.

"Well, I'm sure you'll have a better sleep tonight," he said. "I can't sleep in that dreadful guest room either. It's always cold and smells too much like Balin's books."

Kili laughs lightly at that and flashes him a grateful smile.

"Besides, I'd like to give your uncle some good news about your training, instead of telling him of how little Ori trounced you," he adds, laughing heartily when Kili glowers at him.

Whenever Kili has a bad day at training, Dwalin likes to take him to practice his throwing knives to cheer him up. Kili's hands are steady, and his aim is always true, so the practice usually serves to restore his confidence for the day, and gives him something to rave to Thorin about. He and Kili quickly set up the range, distributing the targets to all different distances, including some that are quite far away that the lad doesn't yet have the arm to reach, though not for lack of trying.

Once he is satisfied with the targets, Dwalin turns back to the start, intending to tell Kili to pull out his knives to get started, and sees the lad running his fingers along a bow resting against the weapons rack.

"Can I learn to use the bow instead?" Kili asks, and Dwalin starts to tell him no, remembering what a disaster it had been to try and teach Fili. He was aiming to boost the lad's confidence, not frustrate him further. But Thorin had some skill with a bow, and if he remembered correctly, so did the boy's father, so he didn't see the harm in trying.

"So long as your promise not to nearly shoot me like your brother did," he agrees. "Though you'll need a smaller one than that." He searches through the weapons rack for a moment, finally finding one that should do for the lad. It's a bit beat up and needs restringing, and he silently hopes that it doesn't snap on the boy. He grabs a vambrace and a finger tab and instructs the lad to put them on while he searches for a quiver with usable arrows. It has been a while since any of the dwarrows had tried to learn archery, and he hadn't realized how badly his supplies had dwindled.

"Now," he murmurs when Kili has all of the correct gear. "Let's say we want to shoot at this target." He points to one about midway down the range, grasping Kili by the shoulders to pull him into position. "You'll need to stand here, vertical to the target." He crouches down behind the boy and grasps both of his hands. "Put the bow in your left – that's it, and you'll pull with your right." He shows Kili how to grasp the string and pull it back to shoot. "Three fingers, lad, and pull it back until they brush your cheek."

He has the lad practice pulling the string back a few times, pleased to see that his hands are as steady as ever, before handing him an arrow and showing him how to nock it in place. He has the lad practice pulling it back a few times more, has him practice lining up the arrow to the target, before telling him to take a deep breath and shoot.

The arrow thunks into the target, just below the bull's-eye, and Dwalin's mouth drops open in astonishment.

"Was that good?" Kili asks earnestly, an excited smile on his face as he waits for his elder's reaction.

Dwalin stands straight and steps away from him. "Do it again," he demands, eager to see if the lad can repeat his success without his assistance. Kili's smile falters slightly at the avoidance of his question, but he does as he's told. The second arrow hits its mark, right in the center of the target, and Dwalin lets out a roaring cheer for the lad. Kili smiles up at him, face flushed with excitement as Dwalin claps a hand on his shoulder.

"Well I'll be damned," he laughed. "Fourteen years old and already better than your uncle!"

Kili positively glows from his praise.

They spend the next few hours shooting at all of the targets, and Kili at least hits every last one of them. Eventually the string does snap, leaving a burn across Kili's cheek, but the lad is too excited to care. He practically bounces the entire way back to Dwalin and Balin's home, chatting animatedly with Dwalin the entire way. His enthusiasm rubs off on the older dwarf, and he finds himself often laughing with the lad, and eventually he promises to find him a proper bow.

When they arrive back out the house, Balin listens intently as Kili recounts his achievements in archery, and shoves at Dwalin's shoulder, calling him 'an old softy' when he sees him beaming with praise.

"Would you like to come with me to fetch your brother?" Thorin asks as they're leaving the stables. For a moment, Fili wonders why he even asks, before he remembers their earlier conversation.

"Of course I would," he says quietly. "I've missed him."

Thorin gives him a fond smile. "I have as well. Let us hope he did not terrorize Dwalin too badly."

Fili laughs. "I wouldn't count on it. He's been with them for an entire day!"

Thorin knocks thrice on the door before letting himself in, and is nearly tackled to the floor not a moment later when Kili barrels into him. He lifts the lad into a firm hug before planting a kiss on his cheek and setting him back down. Kili does succeed in knocking his brother over when he pounces on him, declaring how much he missed him as he does.

"And here I thought you would have tired him out for me," Thorin comments dryly as he claps arms with Dwalin.

"Give him five minutes," his longtime friend mutters. "Didn't sleep at all last night, and trained all day. He'll be out like a light before you get him home."

"Uncle!" Kili calls as he helps Fili back to his feet. The lad is smiling brightly, but Thorin can see the exhaustion etched across his features. "Mister Dwalin taught me how to shoot a bow and he says…he says I'm even better than you!" he declares excitedly.

"No doubt you're better than me, at least," Fili adds, flashing Dwalin a sheepish smile.

"Is that so?" Thorin asks, tenderly cupping the lad's head with fond affection.

"Aye, it is," Dwalin confirmed. "A right natural, that boy is. Steady hands and aim as true as ever!"

"I suppose one day soon you'll have a new hunting partner, my friend," Thorin adds with a small smile, watching as Kili stumbles over his words to tell Fili about his day, his hands gripping at his brother's excitedly.

He understands Fili's need for independence, but he also understands Kili's dependence on him, and he hopes that he is able to come to a happy solution between the pair. He has no doubt that it will hurt Kili, but hopefully he will be able to distract him with his own lessons and, now, archery, to make it sting less.

Balin invites them to stay for dinner, but he can see how Kili's eyelids are drooping and hear the sleepy slurs in his words, so he declines. He gathers Kili up on his back to take him home and bids his longtime friends a good night.

As Dwalin predicted, he is asleep before they reach their home.

"But I always go to the market with Fili."

Thorin pinches the bridge of his nose, willing himself to stay patient. It's been a number of weeks since he and Fili traveled to the town of men alone, and Kili is still fighting him on spending time away from his brother.

Their talk had gone well; Kili seemed to understand that it was important that they become their own dwarrows, that they would inevitably have to spend long periods of time apart, and that he may as well start adjusting to it now. Though he supposed there was a large difference between understanding the words and accepting the small absences of his brother in his life.

Two nights before, he'd let Fili spend the night with another dwarfling's family, and he'd fully intended to make Kili sleep in his own bed, alone, just once. He'd gotten the lad to fall asleep after hours of stories, but when Kili woke not long after, screaming from night terrors, Thorin had relented and pulled him into bed with him for the remainder of the night. Kili had asked a million questions about where his brother was and why he couldn't be with him every time they were separated.

"I know, Kili," he grumbled. "But he is going to spend some time with his friends today." His youngest nephew frowned at him. "You have sparring practice anyhow; you couldn't go with him if you wanted to."

"But I _do_ want to!" Kili huffed.

Thorin sighed. "You must remember what we talked about, lad."

"But it's not fair!" he whined. "There are lots of dwarrows Fili's age for him to play with. All I have is Ori, and Mister Dori never lets him out, if he can help it."

Thorin pursed his lips. Kili did have a point. "You used to always love spending time with Mister Bofur," he says, trying to find someone who the lad might be able to spend time with, other than his brother.

"He's in the mines all the time now," Kili pouted. "And he's a grown up! I don't want to play with grown ups."

"Well, perhaps when baby Gimli is older…?" he starts, but snaps his mouth shut at the glare Kili gives him. It rivals his own, and makes Thorin wonder yet again if Kili could pass for his own son.

"I just don't understand why Fili doesn't like me anymore," Kili mumbles as he pulls on his boots. He'll need to leave for training soon, lest he want Dwalin to be cross with him again.

"Kili," Thorin sighs, and a frown on his face "Your brother loves you, you shouldn't say such things."

"Sorry," he mutters as he grabs his sword and focuses on attaching the belt to his waist.

"You must give your brother some time, Kili. He will figure things out for himself soon enough." Thorin urged. Kili doesn't answer; he just keeps his gaze fixed on the floor as he secures his weapon He sighs and walks over to his youngest nephew, tipping his chin up to make him meet his gaze.

He frowns at the tears he sees pooling in the lad's eyes, but Kili quickly squeezes his eyes shut to clear the tears away. "M'fine, Uncle," he promised, even as Thorin's thumb sweeps across his cheek to wipe the one droplet that escaped.

"My boy," he murmured softly. "Give it time. You must learn to be without your brother sometime. When he is of age, he'll be expected to travel with me for many occasions. You must learn how to be all right on your own."

The boy frowned, and Thorin saw the absolute fear in his eyes before he took a deep breath and nodded. He was clearly none too pleased about this new bit of information. "Yes, Uncle," he whispered.

Thorin cupped both his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "That's a good lad," he said, giving Kili one of the small smiles that he reserved for his nephews. "Now, let's get you to your training, shall we?"

He doesn't usually walk the boy to his lessons, not here where there is abundant safety in living with other dwarrows, but he is due to be at the forge anyhow, and he thinks it might be wise to warn Dwalin of Kili's potential sour mood. He doesn't miss the small, grateful smile that Kili gives him before he jogs across the sparring arena, to where Ori is sifting through the weapons with interest. Dwalin claps him on the shoulder in greeting once he arrives; the pair lean on the fence that surrounded the small space.

"Off to the forge, are you?" he asks, friendly smile on his face. "I'll be on my way over when I finish with the lads," he adds when Thorin nods.

"Lots of pots to mend," Thorin muttered dryly. The day before, a trio of brothers had travelled from the town of men and dropped off an alarming quantity of cookware to be mended for their mother, as a birthday gift. It wasn't the sort of work that he particularly enjoyed – his skill lay primarily in weapon making – but work was work, and he would take it either way.

"I got something for your boy," Dwalin said as he watched Ori attempt to pull a much too large sword from the weapons rack, much to Kili's amusement. "Found a bow he could use for practice, if you want him to have it."

Thorin chuckled lightly. "I think a bow of his own is just the thing to mend this terrible mood of his."

Dwalin scoffed. "You always bring him to me when he's in a mood," he muttered under his breath.

"Well, you are his favorite grown up, or so he tells me," Thorin explains. "After dear Mister Bofur, of course."

Dwalin gives him a punch on the arm. "Well, I'm sure I'll be first after I give him that bow," he declares, and Thorin laughs as he bids his farewell and heads to the forge.

Fili laughs heartily as Clach tells an obviously embellished story about how his da took on a whole horde of orcs, singe-handedly killing each and every one in a variety of creative ways. He doesn't mind the older dwarrow much, he's a bit brash and standoffish, but he tells amusing stories and he was the first to welcome Fili into their group, despite the fact that he was a good five years younger than the rest of them. He praised Fili for his height and his skill in the arena, and he found himself preferring the approval of his peers to Kili's blind adoration.

Abruptly, Clach halted in his story, a small sneer forming on his face. "I thought I told you to leave him at home, Fili."

Fili turned to look behind him, and, sure enough, Kili was racing in his direction with Ori trailing behind him, happy smiles on their faces. "I did," he sighs. "Let me just see what he wants."

Kili very nearly crashed into him, and he probably would have fallen straight on his behind if Fili and Ori hadn't both reached out hands to steady him. "Look, Fee; look!" he exclaimed as he pulled a bow from his back. "Look what Mister Dwalin got me! I can practice all the time now!"

He couldn't help but smile at his brother's enthusiasm, and he reached down to squeeze Kili's shoulder affectionately. "That's great, brother," he murmured. "Have you gone to show Uncle?"

Kili shook his head. "I wanted you to see first!" He was breathless with his excitement. "Will you come and watch me shoot?"

He heard one of the other dwarrows, Mogue, he thought, laugh loudly, and the rest of his friends snickered along. He sighed. He'd like to go and see, he really would, but he knew his friends would never let him hear the end of it if he ran off now, not after he'd promised that he could keep Kili out of his hair long enough to spend time with them. "Not today, Kee. I'm busy."

A tiny bit of guilt gnawed at him as Kili's face fell. His younger brother looked behind him at his friends and sighed. "Some other time then?" he asked, his voice tinged with disappointment that only Fili could pick up on.

He gave him a small smile. "Of course. Now run along and show Uncle!"

Kili still frowned, but he nodded. Ori grabbed his arm and urged him with a quiet "Come on, then," and they disappeared in the direction of the forge.

"How sweet; the little elf has his own bow now," Mogue murmured as he turned back around, causing the other dwarrows to laugh loudly. "How much longer do you think until he runs off in the words with his own kind?"

Fili frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"We've been wondering," Clach said as he crossed his arms on his chest. "Is he really your brother?"

"What?" he asked, feeling anger surge hotly inside of him. Surely they could not be insinuating….

"Well he's so fair of face and has such a small nose that he may as well be an elfling," Mogue observed.

"And no sign of a beard at all!" Baeddan chimed in. "Even that baby born a few months ago has his beard long enough to braid!"

"And you Da died before he was born, if I'm not mistaken," Clach observed, and Fili had to clinch his fists at his sides. "There's loads of stories about dwarf women becoming right whores when their Ones die. Probably found herself a wandering elf to keep her company at night!"

"Shut it," Fili demanded, his voice dangerously low., almost lost amongst the laughter of his so-called friends A few of the other dwarrows backed away slightly, and one of the lasses tugged at Clach's arm, but he shrugged her off.

"It's too bad she's dead and can't tell you for certain," he continued, voice dripping venom. "Probably killed herself with shame the second he was born, I'd wager."

"Shut UP!" Fili shouted again, and a few of the dwarrows scattered off. Clach stood his ground, Mogue and Baeddan by his sides. "You know _nothing_ of my family," he seethed.

"And then you are your uncle are just too _stupid_ to see what's obvious," he baited again. "Can't even see what a worthless half-breed runt you have in front of you."

Something inside Fili snapped and he lunged at Clach as his vision bled red. His fists connected with his face, arms, stomach, anything he could reach. He caught the older dwarfling completely off guard, and he'd only had time to bring his arms up to shield his face. Baeddan and Mogue tried to pull him off, but he aimed punches at their stomachs until they turned tail and ran. Clach was screaming obscenities at him, and trying to flip him off, but Fili help strong, kept his attack going.

He was dimly aware of someone screaming and crying, but in his haze of rage, he did not realize it was himself.

Suddenly, a pair of strong hands grabbed him about his shoulders and yanked him away. He struggled to pull away, to get back to the brawl, but he was tackled to the ground, arms pinned helplessly to his sides.

"That's _enough_, lad" Dwalin was all but growling in his ear as the red slowly cleared from his vision and he calmed. As soon as he stopped struggling, he was grabbed up by his arm and all but hauled away from the marketplace. He couldn't stop the hot, angry tears from falling, and he knew that he must look terribly, terribly weak, but he couldn't bring himself to care. In the blink of an eye, he was being shoved through the door of the forge and practically tossed to the floor.

Thorin looked up from his work and frowned. "What in Durin's name is going on?" he nearly shouted as he took in the sight of his shaking, sobbing nephew, dropping his tools to crouch by him when he saw the blood on his knuckles.

"Brawling witch Clach in the marketplace," Dwalin growled angrily. "After all we've taught him about propriety…"

"Do you know what they say about them?" Fili snapped as his uncle drew his hands up for closer inspection. "What they say about Mum? And Kee?" He choked out a sobbing breath. "They call her a _whore_, uncle. A whore! And they said Kili was a half-breed, that he was _worthless_, and I couldn't…" He dissolves into a fit of sobs.

Thorin pulls him close. "Breathe, Fili," he urges gently, trying to calm to boy down. "You mustn't let yourself get caught up in the idle gossip of children. They know nothing."

It takes a few moments for Fili to calm his breathing, but he can't quite get a reign on his tears. "I wish mum was still here," he laments against his uncle's chest. "They wouldn't have anything to say if she were here."

Thorin eventually pushes him away and murmurs, "Let's get you cleaned up, then" as he pats his cheek and offers him a sad smile. "Kili, fetch me that basin of water and a rag."

Fili looks behind his uncle to see his brother, wide-eyed and trembling, with an equally astonished Ori standing next to him, but he does as he's told. He was still clutching that _stupid_ bow in his hands before grasping the basin, and he feels an anger he can't describe bubble up inside of him.

"_You_," he all but snarls when Kili turns back to face him. His younger brother stops dead in his tracks, brows furrowed in confusion at his brother's tone.

"Fili," Thorin warns, but he doesn't _care_. He hurts, he hurts because of Kili and suddenly, terrifyingly, he wants Kili to hurt to.

"I _told_ you to leave me alone," he nearly shouts as he scrambles to his feet. Thorin grabs his wrist to pull him back, but he twists it free.

Kili takes a step back, knuckles white as they grasp the basin, and Fili takes satisfaction in the fact that he looks like he might cry. "M'sorry, Fee," he murmurs in a tremulous voice. "I just wanted…"

"This is your fault!" he snaps. "If you would just _listen_! If you would just act like a proper dwarf instead of like…like some _elfling_! And…and Mum would still _be_ here if it wasn't for you! I wish you hadn't been _born_!"

He has only a second to see the tears that streak down his brother's face before the basin clatters to the floor. He hears Ori shout, "Kili, wait!" as his uncle whirls him around. Thorin cuffs him hard in the jaw, just as the door slams shut, and Fili finds himself sprawled on the floor of the forge. His brain finally registers what he's said, and a sick horror stirs in his gut as he realizes what he has done.

"I didn't…" he mumbles as a wave of nausea surges up within him. "I didn't mean…"

Thorin grabs him by his tunic and practically throws him onto a nearby armchair, looming over him with the angriest expression he has ever seen. Fili hates that the anger is directed at him, hates that he _deserves_ it, and shame washes over him. What has he _done_?

"Are you finished?" Thorin practically growls. When Fili doesn't answer, he grabs his shoulders and shakes him firmly.

"Yes! I didn't…I didn't mean to say that, Uncle; I swear!" His hand reaches up to cup the soreness in his jaw, still disbelieving that he had driven his uncle to hit him in anger. "I'm sorry; I'm so sorry," he mumbles, close to crying again. What has he _done_?!

A strange emotion flits across Thorin's face before he sighs heavily. He rights himself, gaze still filled with anger, as he heads to an equipment cabinet and pulls out a small jar of something. He tosses it to Fili, and he recognizes it as a salve they use for any burns or wounds the may acquire in the forge. "Put that on your jaw," he commands. "And don't even _think_ of moving from that spot until I've found your brother."

He flushes with shame and embarrassment. "Yes, Uncle," he whispers.

He waits until the door slams shut to let himself cry.

Dwalin had chased after Kili the second he'd bolted from the forge, as had Ori, but _damn_ if the lad wasn't fast and he'd lost sight of him in the marketplace.

"I think I know where he's going," Ori offered, so Dwalin gestured from him to show him the way. The lad takes off through the marketplace, heading to the mouth of the cavern. Dwalin instinctively grasps the hilt of his sword; the woods on the face of the mountain could easily be teeming with orcs and goblins, and it is no place for dwarflings.

Sure enough, he catches sight of Kili again as he bolts for the tree line. He knows the lad loves the fresh air in the forest, that he loves to climb trees, and he almost wants to give the lad his respite and let him wander the woods until he calms, but Thorin would have his head if anything happened to the boy and he had done nothing, so he hurries off to follow, leaving Ori struggling to keep up behind him.

Kili trips over something just after he passes the tree line and careens to the ground, face first. Dwalin panics for a split second when the lad makes no move to get up, hastens his steps to get to him as soon as possible. He would deny it later, but his heart plummets into his boots when he gets a good look at the lad. He's practically curled in on himself, hands grasping at the forest soil, sobbing brokenly. He sinks to his knees next to him, but is at a complete loss of what to do. Comforting little dwarrows was not a skill he'd ever needed to acquire, something he'd always left to Balin to deal with, and he suddenly wished that it were Thorin who had followed the boy out. He tentatively splays a hand across Kili's back, but that only makes the dwarfling cry harder, and he immediately pulls it away as if he's been burned.

Thankfully, Ori is not far behind him. He crouches next to him, murmuring softly to him as he grasps at his hands and pulls at him, eventually pulling him into a half-sitting position where he's leaning heavily against Ori's side. He doesn't offer any words of comfort, just quiet encouragement to focus on his breathing, to _relax_. It takes a long while, long enough that the sun begins to set and eerie shadows fall throughout the forest, but the lad eventually calms.

Dwalin sits and watches, feeling useless. He wants to go and find Thorin, to lead him to the lads and maybe go and knock some sense into Fili, but he is reluctant to leave two young dwarflings in the forest at sunset, so he waits.

"Let's get you home, lad," he offers once the boy has been calm for a while, but Kili shakes his head.

"Don't _want_ to go there," he whispers, but he doesn't fight it when Dwalin starts to pull him to his feet. He stumbles with every step he takes, and Ori eventually pulls him onto his back. Darkness has fallen by the time they reach the marketplace, and Dwalin finally releases a long-held breath as he lets his hand fall away from the hilt of his sword.

They find Thorin speaking with one of the members of the settlement guard, overhear him saying that he will see to it that Fili personally pays him the fine for brawling in the marketplace, while Clach's father demands that he also apologize to his boy. Thorin's tone is tight, his face rigid, and Dwalin can't begin to imagine the myriad of emotions his old friend must be feeling now.

The rightful king's tension positively melts when he spies them approaching, and he quickly excuses himself from the conversation.

"There you are," he breaths as he pulls an unresponsive Kili from Ori's back and holds him close. "You had me right terrified, Kili." Kili only moves to curl his fingers into Thorin's hair, something he has done since a babe to calm himself. Thorin balances him carefully on his hip, suddenly grateful that the lad hasn't grown too big for his arms the way Fili has.

"Come, Ori," he murmurs quietly. "I'll walk you home. I'm sure your brothers are wondering where you've got off to."

Ori has to nod in agreement. "I'm surprised Dori isn't turning the marketplace upside down as we speak," he admits.

They drop Ori off at home, to a very relieved looking Dori, and bid Dwalin a god night when they pass his home. Their home is quiet and still when they arrive, and Thorin sets about getting a bath started for the lad. He's covered in a fine layer of dirt, and Thorin knows he must have run out into the woods, which makes him ever more grateful of Dwalin's watchful eyes. And Ori's.

Kili doesn't speak once, stays stoic as ever; even with Thorin's gentle prodding. He sits still as a stone in the bath, but once Thorin's gotten him clean, he starts to cry again, silently and softly, but still the tears tear at Thorin in a way he wishes it didn't.

It reminds him of Frerin, the bleakest he'd ever seen his brother, when he's discovered that his One hadn't escaped from Erebor. He'd been despondent for weeks, and it had nearly torn Thorin apart with worry. They'd just lost their home; he couldn't bear the thought of loosing his brother, too.

But he _had_ lost his brother, in the end. And his father, his grandfather, his _sister_.

He's drawn out of his thoughts by Kili's hand brushing gently across his cheek. It's a gesture he's seen the lad use on his brother many times, less often on himself. It's his way of offering comfort when he can tell someone is upset or sad.

"I'm sorry," Kili murmurs, his voice rough from crying and disuse. "It's my fault…"

"No," Thorin says, his tone leaving no room for argument, though Kili hasn't learned to head that just yet.

"But Fosur says that your cursed if your mum dies when you're born…" he argues, tears pooling in his eyes, but Thorin cuts him off.

"Your mum did not die when you were born, Kili," he soothes. "She fell ill after, from the cold. It was not your fault."

"But Fosur says…"

"Fosur is an _idiot_," Thorin nearly snaps, remembering the ill attitude the young dwarrow from their old town had always sported. He thrived on making the other dwarflings feel small, and stupid. He'd told Kili that he wasn't a _real_ dwarf because his parents were dead. He hadn't thought it possible to hate a child, but with terrors like Fosur, and now Clach, he was starting to reconsider.

"But Fili said…" Kili murmurs, a choked sob coming out at the mere memory of what his brother had said to him a few hours prior.

"Your brother is acting like an idiot," Thorin explained as he drew Kili from the tub and wrapped him in a towel before sitting him in his lap. "He did not know what he was saying, Kili, I promise you." Kili starts to protest again, but he shushes him. "He was hurt and sadden by what his friends said, little one. He forgot himself in his anger."

Kili doesn't look convinced, but he nods anyway. "Head hurts," he mumbles.

"Let's get you some tea then," he decides, handing the lad a sleeping tunic to put on as he finishes drying himself. He looks so young to Thorin's eyes, so raw, and he wishes that he could take back Fili's anger, wishes he cold have bottled the lad's innocence years ago, wishes he could have kept him pure.

He hesitates for a moment before slipping a bit of sleeping drought into Oin's headache cure-all tea brew. If Kili notices it, he doesn't mention it, and he drinks the entire mug while Thorin finishes combing the knots from his hair. It isn't long until Kili declares that he is sleepy, and by the time he has the lad tucked into his bed he is fast asleep.

He sighs heavily and sits to watch the lad sleep for a while. He doesn't want to fetch Fili, not when he's still this angry. He's angry with the boy for his ill-thought words and actions. He's angry that he was brawling in the marketplace instead of being his normal, level headed self. Most of all, he was angry with himself for striking Fili in anger. He wishes he could take it back, but he knows he can't. He's made a mistake and he has to live with it, has to hope that Fili will forgive him, but he can't shake the feeling that there's something between them that he's broken and can never get back.

Eventually he pulls himself from his cowardice and returns to the forge. He doesn't know whether he's pleased of saddened that Fili is still exactly where he left him, eyes red and swollen from crying and sporting a smattering of purple along his jaw.

"Is he alright?" he asks immediately, uncurling himself from the armchair, but not daring to leave without Thorin's permission.

"Aye, he is," he answers quietly. "He is rather upset, and tired, and sore –"

"Why is he _sore_?" Fili nearly shouted, voice tinged with concern.

"Ori said he fell in the words," he explains quickly. "He's not hurt, Fili. I promise you."

Fili looks desperate. "I have to speak with him, Uncle. I have to tell him I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I love him so much, _so_ much and I need to…"

"Shhh, lad," he murmurs, reaching a hand out to pat his shoulder. "He knows. He'll feel better once you tell him, but he knows."

"Does he hate me?" he asks in a small voice.

Thorin kneels down to be level with his eldest nephew. "He does not, Fili. He adores you. That's why he was so upset."

Fili nods before nervously chewing on his lip. "Do you hate me?"

Thorin shook his head, reached forward to cup his uninjured cheek. "I could never. I'm sorry I struck you," he murmurs, feeling ashamed. "I forgot myself."

Fili gives him a small smile. "I think I needed it." He sighed. "I didn't even know what I was saying," he whispers, disbelievingly.

"There is a fierce anger that comes when someone threatens the ones you love," Thorin speaks quietly. "I doubt you have felt that anger before." Fili shakes his head. "I would like to say that you won't feel it again, but I know you will. In time you will learn to direct it only to those who deserve it, but I do not blame you for lashing out as you did."

Fili nods. "Uncle," he murmurs, "do people really think that? About Mum and Kili?"

Thorin sighs and ruffles and hand through Fili's messy hair. "There are some who seek to bring down our family, Fili. They seek to make us out to be monsters, to say that we deserve what the dragon brought to us. And they will say things – they will say _anything_ – they wish if they think others will believe it."

Fili frowns deeply. "Is that why you want to get Erebor back?"

"It is but a small part. I have learned not to care much of what others think of my line, though the idle gossip does stir up more anger than it should, especially when it concerns you brother," he admits. "But he is young, he will grow and be strong, and all of these idiotic doubts will be cast aside."

Fili nods and absorbs his uncle's words for a moment. "I want to go home," he whispers, finally. "Can I come home?"

Thorin stands and pulls Fili to his feet as well. "Of course, of course. I did not intend to keep you locked away in here. I just wanted to tend to both of you, to make sure you were both alright."

Fili hums quietly in agreement. "I just feel empty," he admits quietly as he wraps his fingers in the fabric of Thorin's sleeve. "I just…I need Kili to know that I'm sorry, that I didn't mean it. I meant it when I said I would rather die than hurt him."

"I know," Thorin murmurs quietly as they slip back out into the marketplace.

"I can't believe I thought people lack Clach could be more important than Kee," he continues. "I'm so stupid."

"You must make mistakes in order to learn from them, Fili," Thorin soothes gently. "This will pass in time. You cannot take your actions back, nor your words, but you will be able to choose your future actions with more care."

"I'm so sorry, Uncle," Fili whispers again. Thorin doesn't attempt to soothe him further, he knows there is nothing more he can say, and they walk in a stiff silence back to their home.

As soon as Fili steps inside, he sheds his boots and his weapons and rushed back to the bedroom he shares with his brother. Thorin is half tempted to stop him, to let Kili sleep, but he knows Fili needs this. He follows after him, feeling more tired than he can remember for a long, long time, but needed to make sure they are both okay before he lets himself sleep.

"Kili," Fili calls urgently, shaking his brother gently to rouse him. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice clogged with tears. "I'm so, so sorry, Kee."

Kili is crawling into his arms as soon as he realizes what is going on, hands cupping his cheeks, fingers brushing the tears away when they fall.

"I love you so much," Fili admits into his hair when he clutches him close. "It's not your fault; I was so stupid. I'm sorry. I love you." He repeats the words like a litany until he's sure Kili believes him. Eventually Fili calms himself down, his fingers brushing through Kili's hair and holding his brother close to his chest.

"Please forgive me, Kee," he murmurs as he's crawling into bed with his brother to sleep. "Please, please. I couldn't bear it if you didn't."

"S'okay, Fee," is all Kili says, his voice heavy with exhaustion and the tears that are still falling.

Fili sobs with relief.

Thorin let's the door slip closed quietly when he is sure that the boys are all right, that they won't start fighting or reject each one another. He sinks into an armchair in their front room, sags back in it with exhaustion. He can't help the negative turn his thoughts take.

Like Fili, he wishes his sister were still alive. He wishes it were her who read Kili to sleep and braided Fili's hair. He wishes it wasn't him, alone, mucking it up all over the place. He always found himself trying to decide what Dis would do in situations with her boys, and sometimes he tries to emulate her, but he can't, no matter how hard he tries.

He wishes Frerin were here. He was always better when Frerin was around, hadn't really been whole since he'd lost him on the battlefield so long ago. Frerin had been so young, too young to fight in a battle. They both had been far too you, and the only reason they'd fought was because their grandfather had felt so desperate to find them a home. He remembers holding Frerin tight against his chest, combing his fingers through his hair as he died. They had been as close as Fili and Kili were, and when Frerin died, part of Thorin did too.

He doesn't try to stop the tears that start streaming down his cheeks. He doesn't try to stop the sobs that bubble up in his throat. He doesn't stop himself from crawling into bed with his nephews, doesn't stop the small smile that comes when they curl up next to him in sleep, Kili sand sandwiched between his brother and his uncle.

He wonders if one day he'll tell his boys that they keep the bad dreams away from him, or if he'll just let them think it's only the other way around.


	7. Twenty-Four and Nineteen

AN – So, this chapter got away from me a little bit. I probably should have split it in two, but oh well. This chapter is 26 pages in Word, and I usually start to wrap up after 10. =)

I hope you all enjoy this update!

Follow me on tumblr! displacedhobbit dot tumblr dot com.

I still own nothing. Enjoy!

Warnings: Violence, blood, little bit of gore (and if you're squeamish about broken bones you might be uncomfortable for a bit), angsty, angsty angst.

* * *

**Greater than Gold**

Chapter 7: Twenty-four and Nineteen

By Displaced Hobbit

* * *

"Well look who it is," someone sneered from behind him. "The little runt who would rather be a bookworm than a warrior."

Ori flinched at the words, but kept his head held high, though he did clutch the three tomes he was carrying closer to his chest. He had just finished a history lesson with Balin, one that he had found particularly fascinating; even of it had nearly put Kili to sleep. His teacher had loaned him a few books to read up more on the subject before ushering him out. Normally, Kili would head for the marketplace with him, but Balin had held him back, presumably to give him a scolding for his behavior, and he found himself wishing that his friend were with him. The others usually didn't bother him unless he was alone. He started to second-guess his decision to cut through one of the back alleyways on his way to Bofur's shop, but he simply quickened his pace.

"So sweet how he pretends not to hear," another voice chimed in.

"Perhaps he's just too stupid to know what we're saying," said a third.

He clinched his fists a little tighter around his books. Kili always ignored the stupid things they said to him (though he'd confided in Ori that ignoring it didn't make the words hurt less), so he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. He was almost out of the alleyway, anyhow, and they wouldn't dare taunt him in the marketplace, not after Fili had so fully throttled Clach some years back.

Nearly there. Nearly _safe_ and the teasing will stop. For today, at least.

A hand grasped him roughly by the hood of his cloak and yanked him backward. Where he had just seen the bustling salvation of the marketplace was replaced with the almost mockingly sunny sky, along with four sneering faces that he thinks he actually hates. Clach, his brother Clavin, Baeddan, and Mogue are all sneering down at him, and for a second he thinks that he must be as stupid as they're saying, because he set himself up, walking through the alleyway like that. He starts to shout out for help, but Baeddan kicks him hard in the jaw before Clavin yanks him up by his collar and slams him against the unrelenting stone wall at the back of Bofur's shop (so mockingly close).

"Is there something wrong with you ears, boy?" Clavin sneers.

'Just didn't hear anything worthwhile,' his mind snaps back, while his mouth wisely stays shut.

Clavin shakes him, hard, and his vision blurs when his head smacks against the stone before he rights himself. "Guess you are just stupid." He should be surprised when the older dwarrow pulls his arm back and punches him hard across his left cheek, but he's genuinely not. He _is_ surprised when Clavin abruptly releases him, and he sinks down to the ground, dizzy from the hit.

"Leave off!" Kili shouts, and Ori can't describe how thankful he feels in that exact moment. He knows he should be embarrassed – Kili is younger and smaller than him, and a proper dwarrow would never be so weak as to need saving from him – but he can't bother himself to be. The world spins violently for a moment when he tries to stand, and the sound of blood rushing through his ears nearly deafens him. He uses the wall like a lifeline, and when he finally rights himself his stomach sinks into his boots.

Somehow they've gotten Kili on the ground, and they're _kicking_ him – all four of them! – and he can barely see his friend at all. A distinctive crack and the sound of Kili crying out in obvious pain spurs him from his stupor into action, and he runs for the marketplace before any of them have even noticed he's standing. He finds Bofur and his cousin Bifur immediately as he whirls around the corner of the shop, causing both of them to look up in alarm. He doesn't get any words out – they must have seen his stricken face, and he can taste blood in his mouth – before they are both rushing at him. All he manages to do is point to the alleyway as his vision swims again. He moves to follow them, but a wave of nausea crashes over him, and he finds himself collapsed on the ground, dry heaving into the dirt instead.

It feels like an eternity and just one second have passed at the same time when Bifur is pulling him back to his feet while Bofur cradles a very bloody Kili against his chest. They start to make for the House of Healing, but Ori's stomach lurches at the sight of his friend in such a state because of _him_ and everything fades to black.

* * *

"Hold him down, Bofur," Oin murmurs softly. "This is going to hurt."

He opens his eyes to see Kili sprawled on one of the beds in the houses of healing, and belatedly realizes that he is laid out as well. His head swims violently as he sits up, whether from the sudden movement or from the sight of Kili's obviously broken arm, he isn't sure. Oin spares him a small glance and a reassuring smile when he sees that he's awake.

"I've sent Bifur to fetch one of your brothers," he offers comfortingly. "And Mister Thorin. You just lie still for a while and rest. You've got a nasty nock to the head, laddie."

Ori frowns, his hand coming up to feel the hot swelling along his cheek. "Kili?" he calls.

"M'fine," his friend answers in response, sounding anything but. He can't see his face for where Bofur is sitting, but he would bet his books that he's crying (not that Ori would blame him, one bit, as his eyes once again focus on the bone sticking through his skin). He turns his head and closes his eyes as the urge to vomit seizes at him again.

"Here, lad," Bofur says as he turns back to Kili, his voice tight. "Bite on this, not your lip." His tone is gentle and soothing, meant to be the calm before the storm. "We'll get you cleaned up and have the bone reset in no time at all, you'll see. It'll only hurt for a bit."

Kili sucks in a sharp breath, and Ori can only imagine Oin scrubbing at the wound with his stinging antiseptics, for he doesn't dare open his eyes again. He almost wants to crawl over to the other bed, to hold Kili's hand tight and offer him some reassurance, but every small movement his head makes feels as though it's being split against an anvil, so he stays where he is. The smell of the antiseptic makes him want to be sick, so he lets himself fall back against the pillow.

"Almost done, laddie," Oin soothes when Kili lets out a strangled cry. "Can't stitch you up with any dirt and filth inside."

The front door slams open before Thorin is calling out. "Oin!"

"Back room on the left," Bofur shouts in response, and Ori cracks an eye open to see that Oin is diligently scrubbing at Kili's wound, the bone still out of place. His vision swims wildly.

Thorin enters with all the grace of a wild boar, so breathless that it's obvious he ran straight here. Ori is a little disappointed that it's not one of his own brothers; he'd be quite contented to curl up against Dori's side and not move for a few weeks, or listen to Nori threaten each and every one of those wretched, stupid boys. Oh, Dori was going to be such a mess over this. He always warned him about walking through the alleyways, with Kili or not, and Ori was sure he would never hear the end of it.

When Thorin arrives, he takes Bofur's place by Kili's head, and the toymaker blissfully moves to block his view of Kili's arm. He manages to catch a glimpse at how ashen the lad's face is, and guilt surges through him. "I'm sorry, Kili," he mumbles out.

Thorin's head snaps around as if focusing on him for the first time, and Ori can literally see the puzzle pieces clicking together in his head. "Bifur didn't mention…" he shakes his head, as if clearing it. "Are you all right, lad?"

Ori starts to answer, but a strangled whimper from Kili draws everyone's attention away from him. He is glad for it; he admires Thorin, admires what he has done for their people, but the should-be king is often imposing and honestly a little terrifying, and he hates to have that intensity focused on him, even in such a caring capacity.

"All right, Kili," Oin murmurs softly. "All clean. Now, on the count of three, I'm going to set the bone back in place, okay?" His voice is calm and reassuring and even Ori finds himself relaxing under the gentle tone. "It's going to hurt, quite a lot. I'm sorry."

"No pain killers," Thorin all but whisperers as Kili whines pitifully. "They make him sick."

"They make him sick," Oin says at the same moment. "I know, Thorin. Trust me; I've got your boy." Thorin's shoulders slump a bit, but he sees him nod. "On the count of three, laddie."

Ori squeezes his eyes shut, presses his hands firmly against his ears, not wanting to hear that sickening crack again.

It doesn't block out the sound when Kili _screams_.

* * *

Thorin runs a hand through the boy's tangled hair, trying desperately to distract him from what is about to happen. He'd cringed at the sight of Kili's arm; it was one of the worst breaks he had ever seen, and he's seen plenty in his lifetime. He settles on cupping the right side of the boy's face (it's less bruised than the left, which is already covered in mottled purple) and turning his face away from his mangled arm. He uses his other hand to press down on the lad's shoulder, noting how Bofur has moved to pin his legs down as well. His heart positively breaks when Kili lets out the barest whimper, fear obvious in his wide brown eyes. He presses their foreheads together to offer comfort, and he feels Kili's opposite hand tangle in his sleeve.

"I'm right here, little one," he murmurs quietly.

"One," Oin all but whispers as he adjusts his grip on the lad's arm. Kili squeezes his eyes shut and bites down hard on the leather between his teeth.

"Relax," Thorin eases gently, and Kili does as he asked (as best as he can) and releases a shaking breath.

"Two," Oin says softly once the tension in the boy's shoulders has lessened, before gripping the arm hard and snapping the bone back into place with a horrific sound that makes even Thorin want to vomit.

Kili _screams_, and it's such an agonized, wretched sound that tears at Thorin, brings him right back to the day he lost his baby brother, but he quickly swallows those feelings down, focuses on calming the lad. He whispers every soft word of encouragement he knows against Kili's sweaty temple, focuses on holding him still each time he tries to pull away from Oin's grasp. He's amazed that he's still even conscious as he chances a glance up to see their healer quickly stitching up the wound. The boy's cries have quieted substantially, but he's slipped into a mantra of "please" and "stop" and "I'm sorry" through hiccupping, sobbing breaths as his hand clenches and unclenches against Thorin's arm.

"You're being so brave, my boy," he murmurs encouragingly. "So, so brave. Just a little more."

"_Please_," Kili whines out one last time, and Thorin feels his resolve start to waver and he briefly considers telling Oin to stop. But the lad's eyelids flutter and his body sags, hand dropping heavily from Thorin's sleeve as the intensity of his ordeal and the pain lure him into unconsciousness.

"Bofur, fetch me the splints," Oin demands as soon as Kili falls limp, and the two of them set about bandaging the lad's arm in a way that will limit his mobility and allow the arm to heal properly.

Thorin keeps his forehead pressed to Kili's, keeps his hand carding through the boy's hair as he tries to calm his breathing. He _hates_ to see his boys hurt, even when they boasted of nothing more than scrapes and bruises. He had been a wreck the first time Fili had gotten injured during a sparring lesson – Dwalin had charged him a bit too hard, and the dwarfling had wound up with a sprained wrist and a concussion – because he hadn't known how to care for such things with little dwarrows. Neither of them has ever been hurt like _this_, and he desperately needed to know what had happened to put his youngest in such a state. Bifur had simply rushed into his meeting with the town's governor, saying that Kili had been hurt, and he'd immediately come running.

"What in Durin's name happened to you, lad?" Dori practically shouts from the doorway. "I've told you a thousand times to never go through that alleyway!" Thorin lifts his head up to give him a nod in greeting, and he notes how all the color has drained from the dwarf's face. He immediately rushes to his brother's bedside and starts mothering and coddling the lad intensely. Ori seems to welcome it, to draw comfort in the affection, and Thorin suddenly feels like he is intruding on something very private, so he turns his gaze back to his nephew.

"I'm sorry! Dori, I'm so, so sorry!" Ori sobs out. "I was just excited about the books Mister Balin gave me and I wanted to show you so I took the shortcut. They must've seen me alone and followed me."

"Clach and his idiotic band of hoodlums," Bofur clarified quietly when Ori pressed his face against his brother's neck and cried. "I'd reckon they'd cornered Ori, and Kili must've seen what was going on and went after them. Had all four of them on him when we got there to help, but they scattered like cockroaches as soon as we came round."

Thorin clinched his jaw in frustration. He would very much like to find and dismember each and every one of those lads for their offenses against his line, regardless of the fact that they were still but children.

Eventually, Ori calmed enough to explain what had happened in greater detail. Thorin couldn't help the pride that welled up in him at his nephew's actions; he had been foolish, trying to take on four older dwarrows alone, but Kili was steadfastly loyal, and he stood up for the things he believed in, for the people he believed in. He was still young and reckless, yet he knew those attributes would continue to grow in his youngest sister-son, and he was grateful for it.

While Ori had explained, Oin had finished tending to Kili's other injuries – aside from a likely concussion and a few cracked ribs, everything else was just bruising – and propped him up comfortably with some pillows, elevating his arm to keep it above his heart and prevent additional swelling. Kili woke just once, asking for his brother and his uncle, before Oin gave him a sleeping draught that knocked him back out again.

"I'd like to keep them both here for the night, Kili for a few days after" Oin explained. "You are welcome to stay with them if you would like," he adds when he notices how stricken Dori looks. "We'll get Ori moved to another room now that they're both stable."

"I'd imagine Fili will want to stay as well," Thorin admits as he brushes some of Kili's sweaty fringe away from his forehead.

As if he had called for the lad, Fili slips through the door, his face pale a drawn tight in concern. Bofur had gone to fetch him from the forge (he and Dwalin had only just started training him in weapons making) as soon as they'd finished splinting Kili's arm, and he was surprised it had taken the lad so long to arrive. Thorin feels his heart clinch when he sees Fili's face fall, clearly distraught over seeing his brother so pale and still.

"Kee," he mumbles out, though he hesitates by the door.

Thorin extends a hand out to usher him to his brother's bedside, but Fili shakes his head. He is drawing deep, gasping breaths, and he's gone nearly as pale as his brother, and Thorin understands just what is happening to the lad. He's on his feet and pulling Fili back outside, back into the open air, rushing past a bewildered Dwalin, before his brain fully processes what he is doing.

"Fili," he calls as his hands grip the lad's shoulders tightly. "Look at me, Fili, and breathe."

Fili shakes his head again and almost wrenches himself free of Thorin's grasp. "I will kill them," he growls out, and Thorin almost wants to let him, but he will keep Fili's hands free from bloodshed for as long as he can manage it.

He shakes him, hard. "You will do no such thing," he commands, hoping that he will be able to calm him down. He recognizes the blind rage that Fili is slipping into, knows it because he has felt it so many times before himself.

"I _will_, Uncle," Fili seethes. "You won't be able to stop me." He's shaking with anger now, so Thorin releases his shoulders and presses their foreheads together.

"Look at me," he demands as his hands firmly grip the lad's face. "Fili, _please_." Finally, _finally_ blue eyes focus on his, and he tuts quietly at the sheen of tears he sees there. "Sweet Fili," he soothes. "Just breathe."

"How can you _not_ want to hurt them? To make them pay?" he chokes out, shoulders shaking heavily with the force of his anger and grief. "They _hurt_ him, Uncle. They beat him; they could have _killed _him if Ori hadn't gone for help!"

"I _do_ want them to pay, Fili," Thorin confesses. "And they will, just not by your hands. You mustn't…you can't…" He swallows the lump that has lodged itself in his throat, trying to will his thoughts into words. "You do not know the heavy burden you would bear if you did this."

"I don't _care_!" Fili wails. "I don't care, Uncle. I'd kill them a thousand times if it meant keeping Kili safe!"

"Shhh," Thorin murmurs softly as he lets his hands drop back to the lad's shoulders. "I know you would. I _know_, but you can't. We must follow the laws of our land, Fili, and believe me, I will make sure those idiot boys will pay the severest penalty possible, but you cannot take this into your own hands."

Fili chokes out a sob, his careful hold on his emotions finally unraveling as he lets his head fall to his uncle's shoulder. Thorin immediately wraps his arms around him, holds him close while he cries out all of his hurt and frustration and anger. He holds him tight for a long while, hands rubbing soothing patterns along his back and arms.

"It will be alright, Fili," he soothes once the lad's sobs have quieted. "Your brother is strong; he will persevere."

He feels Fili nod against his chest. "Can I…can I see…"

Thorin presses a quick kiss to his temple before he releases him. "Of course you can, lad. Of course. Oin has even said that you may stay the night here with him if you wish."

Fili breathes out a heavy sigh of relief. "Thank you," he murmurs. "I…I don't know what I would have done…"

He offers the lad a small smile as he reaches up to brush the lingering tears from his cheeks. "Come on then," he murmurs. "Even though he sleeps I know it would comfort Kili greatly to have you near." He ushers the lad back into the house, greeting Oin with a polite nod.

"He's awake again, but not making much sense," he supplied. "Never seen a boy stay awake through a sleeping draught; I'll have to come up with something stronger for him, one day."

Fili rushed ahead to be with his brother, but Thorin held back for a moment.

"He will make a full recovery, my friend," he murmured. "Though I expect he'll be out of sword fighting practice for a while. The arm should heal well enough, if he keeps it still." Thorin snorted out a bit of laughter at that. Getting Smaug out of Erebor would be easier than stopping Kili's squirming. "I'll check it regularly to make sure it's still in place, in any case."

"What about his archery?" he asks quietly. Kili was a natural talent with a bow, and while it was a less-than traditional weapon for a dwarf, it was still a valuable skill to learn, despite what many other dwarrows might think.

Oin scoffed lightly. "You're still encouraging that in him?" Thorin merely shrugged, and did not offer any additional explanation. "It'll be a while before he can pull without any pain, and I would keep him away from it until the arm is fully healed."

He nodded. "Thank you, my friend," he murmured sincerely. "I owe you greatly for this one."

Oin waved him off. "Hush up, would you? And go be with your boys."

Thorin smiled softly and did as he was told.

* * *

Thorin sighed heavily as he returned to the House of Healing some hours later. He had only left at Dwalin's insistence that he wash up and find something to eat, and had decided to return to the Town Hall to finish his meeting with the governor. They had been discussing the plans for a set of great halls carved into the mountains, for a more permanent city, one reminiscent of Erebor and Moria, though much less grand. He'd felt it necessary to explain his sudden departure, and to urge the governor to impose the highest punishments on the lad's responsible.

Oin pulls him aside before he makes it back to Kili's room, a concerned frown on his face.

"He's running a fever, Thorin," he whispers urgently. "I've checked the wound but there are no signs of infection. I've given him a draught to work any toxins out of his body, but it hasn't had a chance to take effect yet" He frowns slightly. "He's awake but he's not very…coherent. Keeps babbling about things that don't make any sense. Fili is with him."

Thorin doesn't temper the sigh that escapes him. He had hoped that all Kili would need was a few weeks of rest to heal his broken arm, but it looked like he was facing a much tougher battle. He nods once, and bids Oin his thanks, before walking back into the room, weariness pressing heavily upon his shoulders.

Fili sits on the bed with Kili's back nestled to his chest; arms wrapped carefully around his middle, giving the splinted limb strapped to his chest a wide berth. Kili is deathly pale; the stark contrast between his dark hair and pallid skin makes him look even younger, smaller than Thorin had thought possible. His sweating forehead is pressed against Fili's cheek, and he can see the lad's lips moving, though he is too far away to hear his words. Fili flashes him a tired smile as he enters, before murmuring something softly to Kili and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"And how are you feeling, my boy?" Thorin asks softly, brushing some of the sweaty strands of hair back from the lad's face with utmost care. He frowns when he sees that the lad's left eye is swollen shut, and the smattering of purple along his face has turned nearly black. He quickly swallows the swell of emotion that wells up inside of him – Kili is clearly not well, and Fili is clearly worried, and it would not do for either of them to see him distraught.

Kili doesn't react to his touch or his words, just continues whispering. "I don't think he can hear us," Fili murmurs sadly. "Mister Oin thinks he is delirious from the fever."

Thorin only catches a few of Kili's utterings, and does not find any meaning in them. "What is he talking about? Can you tell?"

"He's telling me about his Da," his eldest nephew replies before shifting the boy in his arms.

Thorin raises an eyebrow in surprise. "But he's never met –"

"He's talking about _you_," Fili clarifies, his expression carefully blank.

He doesn't quite know what to think. He has never, _never_ tried to take the place of their father. He makes sure to tell them tales of the man's bravery and kindness whenever he can; he has tried to make sure that his boys knew and respected their parents, knew who they were, what they had done for them, how they had _loved_ them. Yet, there is a part of him that feels elated that Kili holds him in such high regard, that Kili treasures him as all dwarflings should treasure their father.

A swift glance to Fili's face shows him that his heir is upset at the possibility of either of them forgetting their father, and that quickly squashes the happiness he let himself feel. He is _not_ their father, no matter how much he fathers them, and he never will be.

"He is delirious," he finally murmurs in response. "He knows not what he speaks."

Fili nods, but chews on his lip thoughtfully. "I just wish…I just wish he had gotten to know Da," he mumbles. "They're so alike; Da would have loved him."

"He would have," Thorin agrees as he sits down gingerly on the side of the bed. "You should sleep, Fili. I can watch over him for a while." Fili's grip on his brother tightens almost imperceptibly, clearly reluctant to let him go.

Kili screams in pain.

Fili's hands fly back as though he has been burned, and Thorin is on his feet instantly, hands cupping the boy's cheeks and trying to get the lad to focus, to let him know what hurts. He is so hot, much too hot, and he feels a solid lead weight settle in his stomach. Something is dreadfully, terribly wrong with his youngest, and he has never felt so helpless, in all the lad's life.

Oin barges into the room in an instant, urging Fili off the bed as he helps Thorin to lay Kili down. Kili is drawing rapid, gasping breaths, tears streaming freely from his unblemished eye, good hand desperately grasping for purchase as he tries to curl into himself.

"I'm sorry!" Fili is stammering out, hands grasping his chest. "I didn't…I didn't mean to! I'm sorry; it was just a little hug…I didn't even _touch_ his arm. I didn't…"

"It's alright, Fili," Thorin calls to him as he and Oin work to pull the lad's bandaged arm away from his chest. Kili is squirming and struggling against them, breath still coming in ragged gasps mixed with pained little cries. Thorin focuses on restraining him and laying him flat, desperate to keep his arm unharmed, as Oin cuts the bandages around his middle.

Aerona, Gloin's wife and Oin's sister in law, bustles in, arms laden with bandages and other tools the healer might need. She gives Fili and Thorin both a soft, sad smile, before placing the supplies on the bedside table and assisting Oin with his task.

"Damn it," Oin growls out once the bandages are clear, and Thorin's stomach lurches at the severe bruising covering the lad's torso. He hadn't remembered it looking so bad before. Oin presses lightly against the lower right side of the lad's belly, and Kili _screams_. "It's his appendix. It has to come out. It's probably already burst."

"You mean he needs _surgery_?" comes Fili's panicked cry from behind him

Aerona starts rummaging through the supply bag, finally producing a small vile of putrid green elixir that she Hands to Thorin. "Have him drink this," she instructs, even though Thorin is already pulling the lid loose. "Make sure he drinks it all."

He presses the vial to the lad's lips, wincing at the strong smell that comes from it, knowing from personal experience that this particular draught, one designed to knock dwarrows out for hours, sometimes days, for surgical purposes, is particularly foul. Kili retches with the first drops that make it into his throat, so he quickly pours the rest of it into the lad's mouth and presses his hand over the boy's lips to make him swallow.

"I'm sorry, Kili," he murmurs against the boy's temple. "I'm sorry, lad, this will help. This will help make it all better."

It is only a matter of seconds before the draught begins to take effect, and Kili's breathing evens out before he falls limp against the bed for the second time that day.

"What did you _do_?" Fili nearly shrieks, tears streaming down his cheeks. "What did you _do_ to him?"

Oin gives Thorin a pointed glare. "Out," he demands. "The both of you. Aerona will fetch you when we are done here."

Thorin nods, his expression grim. "We shall be with Dwalin and Balin," he supplies. Fili starts to protest, so Thorin grabs his arm and hauls him away from the room. They make it as far as the front room before Fili wrenches himself free.

"No!" Fili screams as he grabs his arm to pull him away. "I can't _leave_ him, Uncle! Let me go!"

"You'll do no good to him in there," Thorin snaps, wincing when he feels the telltale pinprick of tears behind his eyes, He cannot let Fili see him cry. He cannot let him know how scared he truly is. "We have to leave Oin to his task. He is in good hands, Fili. He will be _fine_." His voice breaks on the last word, and he feels a damning tear slide down his cheek.

"Uncle," Fili breathes, disbelieving. He reaches a hand up to brush the dampness away from his cheek, but all it does is break the careful dam Thorin has built up around his emotions before he is crying just as hard as Fili is. He grabs his heir and pulls him close, tucking his head under his chin in a way he hasn't done for years.

"I am scared," he admits, his face pressed into the curtain of his nephew's hair. "I am so, so scared, Fili, but we must have _faith_. Oin will do everything he can for Kili – _everything_ – but we must keep faith that he will pull through." He feels Fili nod against his chest. "It's all we _can_ do, lad."

It is a long while before either of them is able to gather themselves. Thorin manages to first, and he spends a good deal of time scrubbing at his face in an attempt to rid it of the tear tracks that he knows linger there. Fili is slumped exhaustedly against him, and he finally summons up the will power to maneuver them to Dwalin and Balin's nearby home.

"Come, Fili," he urges when the lad is reluctant to leave. "We must wait, and it is better to do that with friends than alone."

He doesn't respond, just numbly follows behind Thorin, and seeing Fili so despondent only unsettles him further. He cannot let him lose Kili. The pain of loosing Frerin is always fresh in his heart, and he never wants Fili to feel that crushing sense of loss, to know that deep grief that never truly fades away.

"What has happened?" Balin asks immediately when he answers the door, he ushers them inside with a concerned glance at Fili. He all but drags the dwarfling to a chair and settles him into it, but still Fili makes no move to respond. "Dwalin told me of the brawl, but…"

"Kili needed surgery," Thorin explains, fatigue evident in his voice. "Oin is working on him now."

Balin furrows his brow, confused. "But why would he…"

"His appendix, he said. It needed to come out."

Balin tuts quietly under his breath. "Well, at least that is a fairly regular procedure for him," he offers. "I'll fetch you some tea. Are you hungry, laddie?" he asks, looking to Fili, who numbly shakes his head.

"Little late for visitors," Dwalin grumbles from the hall before emerging in the front room. He is halfway to smiling when he sees just who their visitors are, but it melts into a concerned from when he takes in just how stricken Thorin looks. His gaze wanders to where Fili is slumped in the armchair, and all of the color drains from his face.

"Thorin?" he asks, a small note of trepidation in his voice.

He walks past his friend, gesturing to the nearby study door before stepping inside. Dwalin follows him, but not before casting another wary glance back at Fili, who continues to stare at nothing.

"I could…_we_ could loose him," he grinds out as soon as he hears the quiet snick of the door falling closed.

Dwalin's head snaps up. "Kili?" he asks, voice laced with concern. "He seemed all right when I visited with him earlier. Little confused and disoriented, but that's just the concussion, yea?"

Thorin shakes his head. "He needed…Oin thinks his appendix may have burst," he murmurs quietly. "His fever was so high, and he's in so much pain, Dwalin. I…" He huffs out a heavy breath. "I fear I've failed him…I can't…I can't loose him." The damned tears start falling again, despite how hard he fights to keep them in. He's not embarrassed to cry in front of Dwalin – they've been friends since they were children, they've seen the other cry countless times before – but he still feels ashamed that he wasn't able to protect the lad, and anger at the ones who have hurt him.

Dwalin's hand wraps around the back of his neck before he presses their foreheads together in a dwarven gesture of comfort. He does not offer any advice, or any words of solace. He knows Thorin well enough to know that they will do no good, that _nothing_ will do him any good other than Kili rambunctiously running about once more. When he finally composes himself well enough to pull away, he is surprised to see the glimmer of unshed tears in the warrior's eyes.

"We've been a right strange family since you took those boys in," he explains, and Thorin has to chuckle lightly at that. He doesn't know if he would have been able to get as far as he had with the boys without Dwalin and Balin's help; they had been with him every step of the way, had helped him more than he could ever repay them for. "I'll kill those lads if anything happens to him."

Thorin sighs. "And I would not stop you," he admits. He hates that he is wishing violence upon children, since there are so, so few dwarflings these days, but Kili is half of his whole world, and there wouldn't be a force on Middle Earth strong enough to stop his wrath.

Dwalin must notice the shadow that falls across his face, for he gently grabs his arm to lead him back into the sitting room. "Come," he murmurs. "Fili shouldn't be left alone, and it does us no good to dwell on dark things. Now is the time to pray, to keep faith in our little lad. Aule knows he's too stubborn to go without a fight."

Thorin gives him a small, grateful smile before heading back out. He flops down on the settee opposite of the two armchairs that Balin and Fili currently occupy, feeling the weariness of the day pressing down on him. Fili seems to perk up at his arrival, and he pulls himself up from the armchair before crawling into Thorin's lap, tucking his head under his uncle's chin in a way he hasn't since he was very small.

The four of them fall into a heavy silence as they wait.

* * *

It has been two whole days since Aerona came to fetch them in the middle of the night, explaining that the procedure had gone well and that Kili was resting. Oin had gotten to the appendix just in time, she'd said; had it been left to fester any longer it surely would have burst, and Kili's life would have been in absolute peril.

As it was, Kili still slept, and Thorin found himself becoming more and more anxious with each second that passed as Kili did not wake. There had been instances, rare ones, where patients never woke from the powerful sleeping draught, and their bodies wasted away without food and water until they were no more. He squeezed his eyes shut to will himself away from his negative thoughts; he had stressed to Fili that they must keep faith, and it would do neither of his nephews any good to let himself fall into despair now.

He sighs as he strokes a hand along Kili's blessedly cool brow. "Come on now, little one," he whispers quietly, not wanting to wake Fili, as he had fallen asleep in the chair at his brother's bedside, clutching his little brother's hand. "I'm starting to miss your prattling on about nonsense."

He lets his eyes rove over the boy's too-pale face, frowning at how the bruises have darkened to a sickening purple-black, with some of them yellowing at the edges. He knows he has failed him, knows how disappointed Dis would be in him. He is supposed to be their protector; they're just boys, barely a quarter of the way to their majority, no matter how much he lets himself think otherwise. Fili acts with an air of maturity, and Kili is as insightful as any dwarrow he has known, but that does not mean they are grown. Kili, who barely reaches his waist, and Fili, who is all awkward long limbs in his adolescence. They are but boys – _his_ boys, but still boys nonetheless.

His heart twists in his chest. He longs for Erebor, longs to reclaim their homeland, but he cannot bring the lads until they are grown, and he doubts he would be able to leave them behind. He sighs again as he lets his hand card through the lad's hair, fingers running over the small braids Fili had crafted just hours earlier. It's no use fretting over Erebor now, not with the dragon still rampaging about.

Kili's brow furrows as he lets out the tiniest whimper, and Thorin's heart stops.

"Kili?" he murmurs, thumb brushing along his less-bruised cheek. The lad whines again as his eyelids flicker. "Fili," he calls. His eldest nephew just grunts from his chair, eyes staying firmly shut. "Fili!" he shouts again, just as Kili's eyes blink open, before quickly falling shut as he cries out once more.

"What, Uncle?" Fili grumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Kili squeezes at his hand, and he leaps to his feet. "Kili!" he calls out, relief and happiness evident in his voice.

"I need you to fetch Oin for me, lad," Thorin explains quietly, attention focused on Kili's waking form. Fili nods and pulls his hand free from his brother's and immediately blots for the door.

Kili whines and reaches back for him, but he is already gone. "Fee," he rasps out, his voice a pitiful wreck.

"He'll be right back, dear heart," he whispers as he gently pulls the lad up into a sitting position, mindful of the broken arm strapped to his chest and the stiches in his abdomen.

"Stop," Kili mumbles, trying to push at him with his free hand. "Hurts."

"Shhh, lad, it's all right," he soothes as he props the pillows up behind the lad. "Mister Oin will be here, quick as he can." He frowns at the tears clinging to Kili's lashes as he blinks his eyes open. "My boy," he murmurs as he presses a kiss to his forehead. "I'm sorry, Kili."

"You're awake, you're awake!" Oin calls out cheerfully once he enters the room. "Gave us a right good scare, laddie. It is good to see you up."

"Doesn't feel good," he mutters as he sinks back against his pillows. Fili crawls up onto the bed beside Thorin, nearly in his lap as he tries to get closer to his brother.

Oin chuckles lightly as he brings a mug of lukewarm tea to Kili's lips. "I suppose it doesn't," he agrees. "Slowly lad, I'm sure you're parched, but if you drink too much you'll be sick."

Thorin wraps an arm around Fili when he notices the happy smile tugging at his heir's lips. Kili is awake, grumpy and sore and tired, but awake and talking and _alive_, and he can't help the indescribable joy he feels at the thought. It is a small task to keep Fili occupied while Oin checks Kili out with poking and prodding fingers, as he fidgets and tries to get closer to Kili every time the lad lets out a sound of pain, but soon enough Oin is flashing them a warm smile.

"Now then, Thorin," he addresses as he stands and Fili all but clambers over him to Kili's side. "Keep having him drink the tea, bit by bit. I've put some herbs in that should help with the pain, but shouldn't make him sick. Aerona's made some broth for him, when he feels up to eating, but keep it slow." He smiles again. "He'll be just fine in a few weeks, my friend, don't you worry."

Thorin knows he has a dopey smile on his face as he grabs the healer and pulls him into an embrace, but he can't be bothered to care. "Thank you, Oin," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "I will never be able to repay you for this kindness."

Oin sighs. "Thorin, you gave us a new home after Erebor fell," he replies lightly. "It is I who should repay you."

He doesn't quite know what to say to that, so he releases the healer and watches as he leaves their family in private.

* * *

Kili's eyes are wide and fearful as he watches Oin work. He winces as the healer removes the bandages and splint from his tender arm, lets out a soft cry of pain that has Fili grabbing his free hand and murmuring soft words of encouragement. Oin had decided that the wound from where his bone had broken through the skin has healed enough to plaster the arm. He works quietly, placing a thick bandage across the still healing cut before reaching for the bandages soaking in the plaster.

"What's that for?" Kili asks, eyes flickering behind him to look at his uncle. He's seated in Thorin's lap, the elder dwarf's arms wrapped loosely around his middle. "Will that hurt?" he asks as he turns his gaze to Oin.

"Not a bit," Oin says with a smile. "Though I'll need your uncle to hold your arm up and very, very still. If anything hurts, it'll be that."

Kili swallows audibly as Thorin obediently lifts the injured arm. It's quite bruised and rather swollen, still, but if Oin think it is time for plaster, then it must be time for plaster. Fili strokes his thumb along the back of his hand.

"Relax, Kee," he murmurs. "It'll be fine." Kili sucks in a deep breath and nods, but when he blinks a few tears slide down his cheeks, that Fili immediately wipes away.

Oin is true to his word, and he works quickly to wrap the plastered bandages around the wound, never once jostling the lad's arm or causing him pain. Thorin holds his arm steady as the plaster dries, and Kili finally relaxes back against his uncle's chest.

"Not so bad, was it?" Thorin murmurs in his ear once Oin declares the plaster to be dry, and he sets the lad's arm back down on his lap before pressing a kiss to the lad's less-bruised cheek.

"And the plaster will keep your arm still much better than the split would have," Oin explains. "Though you must be very careful not to move it more than you have to."

Kili nods obediently as he eyes the cast warily. "I won't," he promises.

"Come on then, Fili," Dwalin calls from where he stood leaned against the doorframe. "Your brother is just fine; it's back to the forge with you."

Fili frowns, but he pulls himself up from the chair anyway. "I'll be back soon, Kee," he whispers before ruffling the lad's hair and trotting off after Dwalin. Oin also politely excuses himself, shutting the door tightly behind him as he leaves.

Kili shifts against his chest, curls back up against him, while being mindful of his arm and the stiches in his abdomen. Thorin gently runs a hand through his hair; pulls loose the knots that have tangled in it. "M'tired, Da," he murmurs softly, and Thorin's heart is immediately in his throat.

He shift the lad gently, turns him around so he is facing him, before cupping his face and running a thumb along his cheekbone as he tips the lad's face up to look at him. "Kili," he murmurs. "Sweet little Kili. I'm not your Da."

Kili frowns at him. "But you take care of me," he explains. "You act like a Da, to me and to Fee."

"But you had a Da," he explains. "And your Da was brave, and loyal, and he _loved_ you, Kili. Even when you were but a babe in your mother's stomach, he loved you."

"But I don't know him!" he whines, frustrated. "I know you. I _want_ you to be my Da."

Thorin sighs as he uses him thumb to brush away the tears that have started. "I can't be your Da," he murmurs. "I can't replace him."

Kili draws in a shuddering breath. "You don't want to be my Da," he mumbles despondently.

Thorin draws him close, wraps his arms around him and strokes his back gently. "I _do_, Kili," he whispers against his hair. "I _love_ you, so much, dear heart. You know that I do."

"Then why can't you just be my Da?" he whimpers. Thorin's heart breaks at the sound of the lad's tears, and he presses a tender kiss to the crown of the lad's head.

"Because you've already got one," he explains. "You've a wonderful Da, and he is waiting for you. Do you remember what we talked about? About what happens when dwarrows are called away?" Kili nods against his chest as he sniffles quietly. "Your Da has been waiting for you, and he watches over you even now. You will meet him one day; you will _know_ him one day. I promise."

Kili nods again, his sobs dissolving into soft hiccups. "It's not fair," he whimpers quietly. "Fili got to know Da and I didn't."

Thorin tightens his arms around him, not enough to hurt him, but enough to comfort him. "I know. I know it's not fair, but trust me when I tell you that your Da loved you so very much, Kili." He presses another kiss to the lad's curls. "I have loved you and raised you from the moment you were born, but I am still just your uncle. I will always be your uncle."

Kili stays quiet for a while, good hand kneading the fabric of his tunic between his fingers. For a moment he thinks the lad has fallen asleep, when Kili murmurs, "I love you, Uncle."

The lad's breathing evens out in sleep, but still Thorin holds him.

* * *

_He frowns as Balin finally ushers him out of the house. He hates being scolded, especially when it really wasn't his fault that ancient Dwarven history was so _boring_ in the first place. At least Uncle made things interesting in his stories._

_He frowns when he sees Clach and his idiot friends duck into the alleyway that leads to the marketplace. It's the way that he and Ori usually take after their lessons when they plan to go and see Bofur or to watch Fili's sparring lessons. His heart sinks when he realizes that they must be trying to corner his friend, so he breaks into a run to follow after them._

_Sure enough, they have Ori slammed up against the wall. He gets there just in time to see Clavin shove his fist into Ori's face, and he grabs the older dwarf to pull him off, wincing when Ori slumps to the ground._

_He dodges the first punch easily enough; he is smaller than Clavin and can use that to his advantage. He should have, however, considered the fact that there were four of them and only one of him, he realizes as Baeddan grabs him from behind and pins his arms to his sides._

"_You little shit," Clach snarls. "You stupid little waste of space."_

"_Your dear brother isn't here to save you this time," Mogue grumbles. "Is he, little elfling?"_

_Kili (unwisely) responds by spitting in his face, and all hell breaks loose._

_Mogue punches him a number of times before Baeddan tosses him down to the ground. His vision is swimming wildly, and everything _hurts_. Someone's foot connects with his face, and he curls into himself, draws his arms up to his face to protect it. The kicks keep coming, hard and fast and from all directions. He was stupid, so, so stupid to follow after them alone. He should have grabbed Balin, should have grabbed _anyone_ instead of chasing after them on his own. He'd just wanted to protect Ori. Ori, who was always kind to him and sparred with him and listened to his stupid stories._

_Someone kicks at his face, hard, and he screams in pain as he hears and sees the bone in his arm snap. His vision whites out from the pain, he goes numb all over for just a second. When he comes back to himself, they are _still_ kicking him, and he's suddenly aware of the fact that he's screaming and begging for them to stop._

_He's going to die; he knows it. Those boys are going to _kill_ him, and Fili is at the forge with Dwalin, and Thorin is meeting with the governor, and Ori is passed out on the ground. There is no one who can come and save him; not this time_

_Suddenly, the kicks stop, and through his hazy vision he sees four pairs of feet scrambling away. Someone reaches for his head, but he lurches back as soon as the fingers brush against his scalp, crying out in pain as his body twists painfully. Everything _hurts_, everything, and he just wants it to stop._

"_Oh, laddie," someone murmurs soothingly from above him. He can't tell who it is, but he knows that voice, knows that they are a safe person, and he lets himself relax just slightly. "Come on, come on, Kili. Let's get you up."_

_He's pulled into familiar arms before everything goes black._

He screams when he wakes, and Fili is there in an instant, smoothing sweat-soaked fringe away from his forehead.

"Shhh, Kili," he murmurs softly as he pulls his brother against his chest. "It's alright, Kee; you're safe. No one can hurt you here." Kili struggles against him weakly before relaxing against him with a shuddering sob.

Fili _hates_ this. He struggles to will down the rage he feels, tries to remember his uncle's words from a few days ago. He wants so badly to find those wretched boys and throttle them until they can't speak ever again. He wants to give them twenty bruises for every one that mars Kili's skin. His brother is too young, too young to know this kind of pain, and he is too young to feel this much anger.

"You are so brave, little brother," he soothes as he cards a hand through his brother's dark curls. "So very brave. Ori told me everything."

Kili shakes his head. "I was stupid," he grumbles as he presses his face against Fili's neck and winds his arms around him.

"Reckless, yes," he agrees. "You shouldn't have tried to take them on alone."

"Stupid," Kili whines pitifully. "I spit in Mogue's face!" He shudders slightly, remembering, and his brother squeezes him tighter.

Fili barely covers his shocked laugh with a cough. "You _what_?" Ori had been a little light on the details, with his concussion and all, and he hadn't realized that his brother had goaded his attackers on. "Oh, I would have _loved_ to see his face."

"He was mad," Kili grumbles as he curls in tighter to his brother. "It was scary," he admits quietly.

"I know," he soothes gently. "I know it was. I'm sorry for laughing." He understands now that he's underestimated how distraught his brother really is.

"I thought I was going to die," he whispers, and Fili feels the wetness of his tears against his neck. "I was so scared."

He rubs soothing patterns along the boy's back as he presses a kiss against his hair. "It's okay, Kee," he murmurs, hoping he sounds reassuring. "You're safe now. Uncle and I won't let you out of our sights ever again, if we can help it."

Kili nods against his neck, good hand seeking out his own to squeeze it tight.

"I promise, Kee," he murmurs. "No one will ever hurt you like this again."

* * *

"This is very, very troubling," Nar murmurs softly. "Very troubling indeed." Thorin shifts anxiously from one foot to another, regarding the elder dwarf critically. Nar had come with them from Erebor, had been a young, eager advisor to his grandfather before the dragon came. He had shown unwavering bravery and loyalty to the line of Durin, and Thror had rewarded him with the Governorship of the town they had carved into the side of the mountain before their ill-fated trip to Moria.

For their parts, the four lads charged with assaulting his nephew look positively terrified. Clach and Clavin are sporting matching bruises on their cheeks, their father standing forebodingly behind them, gripping their shoulders with a white-knuckled grip. Baeddan keeps his eyes on the floor, his mother teary-eyed behind him. Mogue stands with his grandfather, chewing on his bottom lip anxiously. It brings Thorin a small level of comfort to see that they are ashamed of their actions (or that they are at least dreading their punishments) but he will still see justice for Kili and Ori.

Dori sits to his right, wringing his hands nervously, and Dwalin is to his left. Bifur and Bofur sit beyond the warrior, and Nori lingers near the door, his gaze practically murderous as he watches the boys squirm.

"You lads assaulted two innocent boys," Nar continues. "You nearly killed one of them, and for what? Entertainment?"

"We didn't mean…" Clach starts.

"Shut it," Dwalin growls from his left, and Bofur smirks from beyond him. Thorin feels a great deal of gratitude for his friends, both of whom are quite fond of and protective over Kili.

"Boys have been executed for lesser crimes before," Nar says as he fixes each of the lad's with a stern glare. "You are fortunate that we dwarrows have fallen on such hard times. The fact that dwarflings are rare is the only thing saving you from that fate."

The color drains from each of the lad's faces, and it is evident that, in their youth, they hadn't fully thought through the consequences of their actions. Baeddan's mother starts to sob openly, and for a second he feels sorry for her, before he remembers Kili's pale, bruised, bloody face. She should have taught he son better, single mother or no. Thorin had raised his boys on his own, and they had enough sense not to bully and tease.

"As it is, I will give you a choice," Nar rumbles on. "In either case, should you ever lay a hand on either of those lads again, I will not hesitate to see you executed, children or not." Dwalin murmurs appreciatively beside him, a small smirk gracing his lips. "You can either serve thirty years of hard labor in the mines – that means everyday, from sun up to sun down, for thirty years, mind you – or you can leave this town and never return. The mines or exile, lads; those are your choices."

Dwalin flashes him a smile. Thirty years in the mine is a hefty sentence. Forced laborers work constantly, with no breaks, and often fall ill or become injured and mangled before their sentences are up. For young lads, it is almost assuredly a death sentence.

"It's the mines for these two," Clach and Clavin's father declares; gaze stern and unwavering as both lads turn pleading eyes on him.

"Da, please," Clavin pleads. But his father simply shakes his head.

"You've three sisters and your mum here, not to mention myself. You're mad if you think I'll uproot the lot of us because of your stupidity," he growls, and the boys fall silent again. "It's high time you face the consequences of your actions, boys. Thorin has done great things for our people, and this is how you repay him? By nearly murdering his boy?"

The two fall silent again as they flush with shame. Thorin feels a small smile tugging at his mouth; it brings him great comfort to hear that their father is still on his side.

Baeddan turns from where he had been discussing things with his mother, who is still sobbing. "We'll leave," he says quietly, rubbing a hand against his mother's shoulder. "I'm sorry, mum," he whispers.

"We will also leave," Mogue's grandfather says before he turns his eyes to Thorin. "I'm glad the lad's are alright. I'm sorry for what this one has done to them. He knows better." Mogue's face turns back to the ground.

"Very well then," Nar murmurs as he writes the results of their tribunal into his. "The prospector will be round to fetch you lads in three days time," he says as he gestures to Clach and Clavin. "I expect the rest of you to be gone before the week is out." He slams his gavel down on the table, signaling that they are finished here, and Thorin sags in relief.

Dwalin claps him on the shoulder. "See, my friend? I told you they would have justice for the lads. You forget how many allies you have," he adds thoughtfully.

"Shall we fetch the lads and tell them the good news?" Bofur asks. "Bombur made miniature pies to celebrate with!"

Thorin nods and they all file out, returning to the House of Healing with warm smiles.

* * *

It is a week after Kili has woken that Oin declares the lad healed enough to go home. Thorin is positively elated at the news – he is not fond of sleeping in the old armchair by Kili's bed – and he knows that coming home is an important step in the lad's recovery. Kili has not been himself since the attack, not that he should be. He's taken to brooding, and the darkness is his eyes have not escaped Thorin's notice. Fili had told him about how scared Kili had been, about the nightmares, and it felt like a stab to his heart to learn just how much of the lad's innocence had been sheered away.

But, he hoped, getting Kili home would help him get back to normal, and Thorin was anxious to have his sweet, loving Kili back as soon as possible.

It is a small affair to bring him home. Bofur arrives with a few toys, crafted by himself and Bifur, including a bird with a crank that makes its wings flap that leaves Kili mesmerized. Ori spends a good chunk of the day drawing designs on Kili's cast, stating simply that he'd wanted Kili to have something nice to look at when he was in such pain because of him. Dwalin arrives just as they're ready to leave, to escort the family home, and to shield Kili from prying eyes.

"Do you want me to carry you?" Thorin asks as they stand in the front room of the House of Healing. Kili chews on his bottom lip for a moment before shaking his head.

"I can walk, I think," he murmurs quietly, and Thorin can tell that he's wary of stepping outside.

He squats down to be level with his youngest nephew. "Those boys will not hurt you again, Kili."

The lad is shaking slightly when he replies. "How do you know?"

"I won't let them," he answers simply enough. "And I doubt they would risk death just to tease you once more."

Kili nods, but he can still see the anxiety in his face. "I want to go home," he murmurs, just as a glimmer of tears falls over his eyes.

Dwalin holds the door for them as they leave. It is dusk, and the marketplace is largely empty, but Kili latches on to Thorin's hand, stays pressed close to his uncle's side the entire way. Dwalin walks in front of them, and Fili stays close behind his brother. Kili stumbles a few times as he walks, having spent so long in bed, so Fili places a comforting hand on the small of his back to keep him steady. Nori passes them as they walk, and he flashes them an uncharacteristically warm smile as he does.

They are nearly home when Kili does truly trip and stumble. He instinctively reaches out his broken arm to break his fall, his good hand still clasped in Thorin's, but Fili grasps him from behind before he can hit the ground. Thorin immediately scoops him into his arms, and he buries his face against his uncle's neck. Thorin feels the wetness of tears, hears the shaking, shuddering sob that escapes his lips.

"That was good, Kili," he soothes, bringing a hand up to card through the lad's hair. "You made it so far, after not walking for so long."

Kili wraps his good hand around Thorin's braid but says nothing.

When they make it into their home, he fully intends to deposit Kili into his own bed to sleep for the night, but the lad is shaking in his arms, and he's not keen on letting him go anytime soon. He toes off his boots before sitting in his well-worn armchair, Kili situated on his lap. Fili sets about removing his brother's boots before taking off his own.

"Can I…?" he murmurs as he gestures to his uncle's lap. He knows his legs will be numb and sore in the morning, but he can't really refuse Fili anything, not when it comes to his little brother.

"Come on then," he murmurs and Fili carefully situates himself on his lap, his hands immediately going to brush Kili's hair from his face. Kili is still shaking, whether from exertion or fear or pain, he really isn't sure. He focuses on whispering quiet words of support and endearment against his temple until the tremors stop, and his breathing evens out and he relaxes against his chest.

When Dwalin steps back in to stoke the fire to life, Kili and Fili are sound asleep, nestled against either side of him. His old friend flashes him a knowing smirk once he settles down in their other armchair.

"He'll be alright, you know," he murmurs after a while of companionable silence. "Especially with those lads being punished the way they are."

"I know," he agrees quietly, pressing a kiss to Kili's forehead when the lad whimpers in his sleep.

They lapse into silence once more, until Dwalin clears his throat. He glances over at his friend with a brow raised.

"Balin's worried about you," he comments idly, and Thorin's brow furrows in confusion. "Fili will start his training as a prince soon, on his thirtieth. He'll learn about the oath, about everything that's expected of him. Of both of them."

Thorin's hand stills where it had been drawing patterns along Kili's back. "I'll not let him take the oath," he murmurs quietly.

"If we leave to take back Erebor, you won't have much of a choice," his friend points out. "You're too attached, Thorin. You coddle them too much. You know what Kili is, what he will be expected to do if we leave take this journey."

"Kili won't be coming with us," he whispers. "And if he doesn't come with us, there's no need for him to take the oath."

"What if he tries to?" Dwalin counters. "I know you love him, Thorin. I know you think of him as your son, but you cannot shelter him from everything. He is the spare; no amount of your love will ever change that."

"I know," he replies quietly, arm subconsciously tightening around his youngest nephew. "I will not let him suffer the same fate as Frerin," he murmurs a moment later. "Frerin died because of _me_. I won't…I can't let that happen to Kili. Not to Kili."

Dwalin sighed. "You have to let him grown up some time."

"I will," Thorin huffs out quietly. "When he's of age. But he is a child, Dwalin," he stresses. "A child under _my_ care, and I will protect him as I see fit."

"I didn't mean any offense," he placates softly. "Balin will, but I don't. He will come to talk to you about it soon, I reckon."

He sighs again, feels the annoying prickle of tears behind his eyes. Kili stirs against him, hand fisting and unclenching in his hair. "Uncle," he sighs out.

"Shhh," he soothes as he presses his cheek against the crown of the lad's head. "Sleep, Kili. You're safe."

"It's not so bad being a spare," Dwalin comments a moment later. "I took my oath before I came of age, and I turned out fine."

"But he's not like you," Thorin almost snaps. "He's like Frerin. Reckless, and headstrong, loves too deeply. He'd throw himself on a sword meant for Fili without a second thought, without looking for a different solution."

"I'll train him myself, Thorin," Dwalin adds. "And you know I'd train him well."

"Please, Dwalin," he stammers out. "I don't want to talk about this. Not now. Not when I've just got him home and safe."

His old friend nods. "You're right. I shouldn't have…" he sighs. "I'm sorry, Thorin, It's not my place."

They lapse into a comfortable silence, until Thorin eventually takes a cue from his nephews and falls asleep. Dwalin sees himself out.

* * *

Three days later, Kili is almost back to his normal self. He is still more cautious than Thorin is used to, keeps his broken arm cradled to his chest when he moves, but he is back to following his brother everywhere he goes, back to running about the marketplace with Ori after their lessons with Balin. Dwalin even lets him attend his sparring lessons, though Kili is unhappy about simply watching from the sidelines.

"Come on, Kee!" Fili calls from the door. "Mister Dwalin wanted me at the forge an hour ago!"

"Coming!" Kili calls from the direction of their bedroom, and Thorin smiles softly at the sound of little feet running through the hallway. A second later, the door to his study creeps open, and Kili pokes his head in.

"What is it, little one?" he asks as he sets the scroll he was reading down.

Kili flashes him a brilliant smile and rushes to him; he climbs into his lap (though Thorin has to assist him with his broken arm) and wraps both arms around his neck. He is a little surprised at the sudden display of affection, more so when Kili pulls back and presses a kiss against his cheek before hopping back onto his feet.

"Love you, Uncle," he says softly, before running back out the door to follow his brother to the forge.

Thorin wears a stupid grin for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

Wooo, monster chapters! I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading!


	8. Twenty-Five and Nineteen

AN – Sorry this one took so long. Real life was kicking me around for a bit there, but I'm back! (Also I don't like this chapter but I hope you do!)

Follow me on tumblr! displacedhobbit dot tumblr dot com.

I still own nothing. Enjoy!

Warnings: Violence, blood, little bit of gore, canonical character death (in a flashback), somebody gets sick, angsty, angsty angst.

**Greater than Gold**

Chapter 8: Twenty-five and Nineteen

By Displaced Hobbit

* * *

"And just what do you think you're doing out here?" Dwalin grumbles from behind him.

Fili jumps in shock as his heart leaps up into his throat, the knife that he was twirling in his palm clattering uselessly to the ground. He wasn't supposed to get _caught_, not by Dwalin, of all people.

"Nothing," he lies lamely as he reaches down to pick up his knife. Dwalin's foot stamps down on it before he does, just narrowly missing his fingers. He gives an indigent shout when the warrior grabs him by his hood and starts to haul him away from the entrance to the mines.

"Hey!" he shouts out as he struggles to get free. "Let go of me!"

Surprisingly, Dwalin acquiesces, by throwing him down to the ground.

"I'll bet Clach and Clavin's shift ends soon, at sundown," he comments dryly. Fili swallows audibly, eyes following his instructor as he takes a few steps back to retrieve the lad's knife. "And you've got no business in the mines to speak of," he continues, tone making it obvious that Fili had better explain himself _or else_.

"I was going to check on the materials we requested for the forge," he explains, but Dwalin cuts him off with a stern glare.

"You know, neither you nor your brother have ever been any good at telling lies."

Fili flushes with embarrassment, but makes to stand up and brush himself off instead. Dwalin responds by shoving him back down to the ground once more.

"Do you know what the punishment is for murder?" he snaps, and Fili feels very small under his stern gaze.

"It wouldn't even be murder; it would be _justice_ –"

"Enough!" Dwalin shouts. "It would be _murder_, two counts of it, and you would be executed. Nar wouldn't care about your princely status or about how few little dwarflings we have left." He growls roughly. "You would be executed, and then where would your brother and your uncle be?" He throws Fili's knife to the ground, watches as it buries itself in the dirt just between the lad's feet.

"I wasn't going to kill them," he mumbles lamely. "I just wanted to scare them."

"So you want to be the bully yourself then?" Dwalin snarls. "After all those idiots put your brother through, you would sink to their level?"

Fili snaps his head up to look at him. "What? No! I wouldn't…" His words escape him and he falls silent again, stares at the knife where it is embedded in the ground. Shame creeps in on him as he realizes with a sinking feeling that Dwalin is _right_. "Please don't tell Uncle."

Dwalin scoffs. "Your uncle has enough to worry about without you acting like an idiot. You'd best start learning how to handle yourself, before you get yourself into trouble and no one's around to get you out."

Fili wants to thank him, but he knows better than to do so when the warrior is so incised, so he settles for chewing anxiously on his bottom lip.

"Listen well to me, boy," Dwalin growls. "If I _ever_ catch you near the mines again without purpose, I will throttle you myself."

Fili nods. "Yes, Mister Dwalin," he mumbles.

The warrior grabs him by the shoulder and yanks him back up. "Get that knife of yours and come with me. You're going to be working in the forge all night, lad."

He groans at the punishment, but he knows that he deserves far worse. He hadn't been thinking, not at all. The idea had come to him not an hour ago, to be waiting outside the mines when those wretched boys got off from their shift, idly sharpening his knives to remind them of just who's little brother they had assaulted. It had been a stupid thought, so, so stupid, he knew, but he was so tired of feeling helpless.

He wanted _justice_. It had been months since they had attacked him, but Kili still hadn't regained full use of his arm. A few weeks after the incident, Oin had noticed that the bone wasn't healing correctly, and he'd broken it again to reset it and give it a chance to heal correctly. The arm still gave Kili a great deal of pain, though he was good at hiding it (not to _him_ though; Kili could never hide anything from him); he wasn't able to support his weight with it and he could barely participate in sparring lessons, all because of _them_. He hadn't even been able to shoot his bow, not with the level of pain that just pulling gave him.

He felt the now familiar rush of anger bubble up inside of him once more. Dwalin was right; he needed to learn how to get a better handle on his emotions. He was as hot headed as his uncle, though much less skilled at managing it. He clinched his fists at his sides, willed himself to calm down.

Dwalin turned to make sure he was following him, and his stern expression melted into something softer when he noticed the lad's distress. With a sigh, he walked back to Fili and patted a hand on his shoulder, urging him to walk with him.

"Come on, lad," he said quietly. "Trust me, a few good hours of hitting iron with a hammer will do wonders for your anger. S'what your uncle does, anyhow."

In the morning, when they finally leave the forge, Fili admits that he was right.

* * *

Thorin rubbed his face tiredly with his free hand. In the other, he held a salvaged blueprint of the great halls of Erebor, one that he was studying over at Nar's request to see how it could be adapted to build a similar set of halls in the Blue Mountains. He jumped, nearly dropping the print in surprise, as thunder boomed throughout their modest home. Sure enough, it was followed by the sound padding feet from the boys' room.

"Uncle?" Kili called sleepily from the hall. Thorin smiled softly and set the piece of parchment down.

"In here," he called, and not a moment later the door to his study creaked open. The lad's hair was mussed from sleep, and he blinked blearily at the soft candlelight in the room. Thorin offered him a warm smile before gesturing him over. Without further invitation, Kili crawled up into his lap, mindful of the scrolls he had strewn about the desk in front of him. He pressed his face against his uncle's neck and sighed heavily.

"It's just a storm lad," he chided, but slid an arm around him anyway. Kili had been afraid of the thunder for as long as he could remember, and he truly couldn't blame him. The thunder seemed to shake the very core of the mountain, as though it came from deep within the earth rather than up in the sky. It made him wonder if the tales Bofur always told of massive stone giants coming to life and hurtling rock at one another were actually true.

Yet, for as easily as the storms always woke Kili, Fili could sleep straight through them, which meant that his youngest nephew usually sought him out, instead of attempting to rouse his brother. As it was, Thorin was sleeping less and less these days, with trying to assist Nar with the building of the Great Halls and keeping up with correspondences about the fate of Erebor and that wretched dragon.

"So?" Kili grumbled, and he chuckled lightly.

"How will you ever be able to fight off orcs and goblins if you're frightened by a little bit of thunder?" he mused.

S'not the same," the lad protested. "And you and Mister Dwalin said I'm too little to do any fighting anyhow."

He chuckled again before pressing a kiss against his forehead. "That is true," he conceded, lifting the blueprint to focus on it once more. Thunder boomed again and Kili started against him, so he hugged the lad just a little bit tighter.

"What's that?" the boy asked as he tangled his hand in his uncle's hair. It usually worked well to simply distract Kili until the storm had passed, so he was glad for the easy opportunity.

"This, little one," he said as he ran his fingers across the parchment. "This shows the halls of Erebor."

Kili frowned. "It's not a very good picture," he complained lightly. "Not like the other ones, at least."

Thorin hummed in agreement. The blueprints definitely paled in comparison to the lavish sketches and paintings of the great halls he had shown the lads before. "It's not a picture, not in the sense that you are used to, at least. It's a plan. It shows where all the rooms go and the like."

Kili perked up a bit at the explanation. "Where's your room?"

"I was still a lad when we lived in Erebor, just about as old as your brother is, now," he explained as he gestured to an area on the parchment. "But the royal apartments were back here, deep within the mountain."

Kili wrinkled his nose. "I wouldn't like to be so far underground," he murmured. Thorin smiled softly, knowing this to be true. Kili hated be cooped up in their own modest home for too long, hated to be away from the fresh air and the sunshine and the wilderness. It was part of why some of the dwarflings called him an elfling, for Kili had always preferred the wilds to being deep underground.

"It wasn't so bad," he mused. "These rooms, here," he murmured as he gestured to a cluster of four squares in the royal apartments. "These belonged to your mum, Frerin, and to myself. We used the spare room for our adventures."

Thunder boomed again, but Kili barely started. "Adventures?" he gasped, excited. "What kind of adventures?"

He chuckled lightly before lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, some days, we would each build our own fortresses, and rule the three greatest dwarf kingdoms Middle Earth had ever seen. Other days we would go out hunting orcs and goblins, and still other days we would craft some of the finest things you've ever seen in our make-believe forge."

He feels his eyes grow misty at the memories. He hoped the lad wouldn't notice, but the small hand cupping his cheek let him know that he had. Kili _always_ noticed, so perceptive he was of others. So like Frerin.

"You could still go on adventures like that, with me and Fee," he says after a moment of contemplation.

He presses a kiss against the boy's forehead. "I'm a bit too old for such adventures, little one," he murmurs.

Kili peers up at him, curious. "But going back to Erebor will be an adventure, won't it?" He frowned slightly. "You're not too old for that."

Thorin gives him a warm smile, one that is becoming increasingly rare and is reserved for only his nephews (and sometimes Dwalin, when his old friend manages to pull it out from him). "Indeed. It will be a great adventure. One that I am not yet too old for," he pauses to tap lightly at Kili's nose, "and for which you are not yet old enough."

Kili's frown deepens. "Would you go without me? If I'm still not old enough when it's time?"

He sighs, sets the blueprints down and pushes the child's hair back from his face. "I would not have you hurt, little one," he murmurs, his eyes flickering quickly to the lad's still healing arm. "But I would not fret over it. It will be many years yet before we will leave to take back our homeland. We will decide when the time comes."

The lad sniffles, clearly not satisfied with his answer. "Mister Balin says that you'll leave me. You'll leave me and you'll take Fee because he's your heir."

Thorin frowns slightly. He knows that Balin is only trying to help by letting the boys know all of the possibilities for their futures, and he knows in his heart that he would never allow Kili to accompany them on their quest, not when he is the spare, not when his sweet, little Kili would be expected to forfeit his life in favor of his brother's or his uncle's. Yet, he also does not know what the future will bring, what the world will be when they are ready to start their quest. If Kili has reached his majority by the time they depart, he will have taken his oath to protect his brother and his uncle with his life, and there would be little Thorin could do to stop him.

He shakes his head, wills the thoughts away. "We will see what happens when the time comes, my boy," he murmurs. "I am no seer; I cannot tell you what the future will bring." Kili's head drops back down to his shoulder and the lad sighs heavily. "Though you must know, Kili, there will be journeys that I must take, ones that Fili must accompany me one, ones that you will be too young for."

"I'm not _that_ much younger than Fee," he protests, and Thorin shushes him quietly.

"Balin will start to teach you of your duties soon," he explains. "Fili is the crown prince, he is my heir, and his responsibilities are vastly different from yours. If we are called to court, then Fili and I must attend. You, you are the second prince; you will not be expected to attend such things, even when you are of age, unless you are specifically requested."

Kili sighs, flinches at bit at the loud burst of thunder that follows his uncle's explanation.

Thorin pulls the lad away a bit to see his face, and frowns at the tears he sees pooling in his eyes. "Know this, my little Kili," he all but whispers as he cups the lad's cheek. "If I must ever leave you behind, it is not because I do not care for you. I would have both of you safe at my side every moment of every day if I could."

Kili still doesn't look convinced, but he nods anyway, and Thorin pulls him close to his chest. It is a while before the storm passes, but when the last, light rumbles of thunder have faded away, he is please to hear the lad's breathing deep and even with sleep. With a sigh, he lifts himself up and deposits the lad in his own bed, smiling softly when Fili grumbles at the slight disruption of his sleep before curling around his brother.

Balin's warnings echo in his head as he slides their door closed and prepares for sleep. _You coddle them so. They're far too close. Get them their own beds. Kili is too old for tears. If we were in Erebor, none of this would be proper._ He knows it all. He knows he hasn't raised them to be proper princes, but they haven't even had a home to be proper princes _in_, so he can't bother to care too much. He's raised them to be good, loving, _normal_ dwarrow boys, and that is what they are.

Yet he knows the days when all of that will start to change are ominously close at hand.

* * *

_It's the scream that pulls him back from his bloodlust, stops the roaring in his ears, cuts short the elation he feels as he watches the pale orc being tossed back into the abyss, blood rushing freely from his stump of an arm, to let him die in the filth of his wounds. He'd have followed them, cut the head from the orc's shoulders to avenge his grandfather, but the scream from directly behind him pulls him back; the scream from a young dwarfling who by all rights shouldn't be on the battlefield in the first place._

_He turns in time to see the orc yank its sword free of his baby brother's chest, just in time to see it kick him to the ground before raising its sword once again, to kill him, and the bloodlust swells up in him again._

_It takes him less than a minute to slash the foul creature into bits, with such rage that it scares all of the nearby orcs off. The filth know they have been defeated, and they all scramble back to their holes and caves, but he can't be bothered to chase any of them down._

_As quickly as it came, the bloodlust fades away, and he feels empty, drained, _exhausted_ as he lets his sword fall from shaking fingertips as he sinks to his knees at his brother's side._

"_Frerin," he murmurs softly as he pulls the lad to his chest, breath catching in his throat at how _young_ he looks (how young he _is_, is mind reminds) as he pushes the hair from his face. He coughs up blood, the jagged, horrific wound in his chest lets his blood flow freely, but still his brother reaches a shaking hand up to his cheek. He grabs it and holds it there, the din of the battleground fading away as he looks at his brother's ashen face._

"_You're…okay…?" Frerin rasps out._

_He swallows around the lump in his throat as he uselessly presses his hand against the wound to stop the bleeding. Frerin is going to die, there's not a doubt in his mind, but damn him if he can't stay strong enough to help his brother pass into the afterlife. He doesn't trust his voice, so he nods._

_A small smile spreads its way across his face. "Good," he mumbles. "Couldn't let them…"_

"_Shhh, Frerin," he chokes out, dismayed at how wrecked he sounds. He's just lost his grandfather, has no idea where his father is, and his brother is dying in his arms. He's nearly lost everything, and he counts his blessings that Dis is safely behind at their camp. "You need to save your strength."_

_Frerin's blue eyes focus on his face, the smile still in place as his fingers stroke along his cheek. "You'll take…take care of Dis…won't you?"_

_He nods again, pushes some of his auburn hair from his face, dismayed at how much of him is stained with blood. "Of course, of course. I promise."_

_His brother struggled to draw breath again, the smile slipping from his face as he winces in pain. "Tell me a story," he whispers. "So I can fall asleep. Tell me of the halls of Mandos"_

_Thorin chokes on a sob. It's been years since his brother has asked him for a story, not since the dragon had forced them out of Erebor, not since he had lost his One in the blaze, all before his twentieth year. Frerin had grown up too fast, they both had, and now he was slipping away from him. He forces himself to will down his emotions, to stay strong for his baby brother just one more time, and tells the tale his brother has requested._

"_Far off, on the western shores of Valinor, are the halls of Mandos," he murmurs, not missing the small quirk of a smile that spreads across his brother's face, despite how much pain he is clearly in. He pulls him closer, wraps his arms around him and presses their foreheads together. "The halls look out across the Encircling Sea, and from every one of the great rooms, you can see the beauty of the water, feel the solid earth under your feet, breathe the freshness of the air."_

_Frerin coughs wetly, and he knows, he _knows_ that he is so, so close to passing on. He swallows the well of emotion back down, determined to see this through._

"_But beside all of the beauty, you'll find all of those who have passed on before you, all of your kin who you have lost, and mourned, will be there, waiting for you, with open arms." He presses a kiss to his brother's brow. "Grandda has gone just before you," he murmurs. "He is waiting for you. And mum, she's there for you too. You'll tell her I love her, won't you?"_

_Frerin chuckles lightly and nods._

"_And Arah is there," he adds, taking note at the way his brother's smile widens at the mention of his One. "You two will be able to have the life you always dreamed of. The life Smaug took away from you."_

_His tears do start then, and Frerin brushes his thumb shakily across his cheek. "I don't want to…to see you there for…a long while, Thorin," he murmurs. "You live for me, okay?" His brother coughs again; the light starts to fade from his eyes._

"_I will; I promise," he vows, pulls his brother as close as he can. "I promise, Frerin. I promise. I love you, nadad; I'm so sorry."_

"_No 'sorry's," Frerin gasps out. "Love…you."_

_Then Frerin's hand slips down from his cheek, falls limply to the ground, and Thorin just clutches him closer and _screams_._

He wakes with a start, covered in a cold sweat that seems to seep into his bones. He presses his shaking hands against his face to scrub away the tears he knows are there. He _hates_ when he dreams of Frerin's death. He remembers it all, in heart-stopping detail, and half expects to see his hands stained with his brother's blood when he pulls them away from his face.

His head feels heavy, his body weak, and he would very much like to curl back up into bed and sleep, but he knows there is much to be done. He and Dwalin are behind at the forge, and he needs to meet with Nar about the plans, and he'd promised, _promised_ Kili that he would come and help the boys with their sparring today. No, there was no time to wallow in his self-pity in bed all day, no matter how much he desired it.

He drags himself out of bed with no small amount of effort, wanting to first check on the boys. He is surprised to find Kili perched in their armchair, a too-bright candle in one hand and a book about animals Balin had given him set against his propped up legs. Fili still snores lightly from the bed, and Thorin feels a small smile tugging at his lips. Not a few years ago, their roles would definitely be reversed, but ever since Fili had started working in the forge, he'd begun sleeping later into the day.

He ought to get Kili started soon, but the lad is still so slight that he doubts he'd be able to keep up. Not to mention they'd barely had time to fill their own orders, much less train a little dwarfling. His youngest flashes him a small smile when he notices him checking in on them.

"Have your brother up in fifteen minutes for breakfast," he grinds out, slightly alarmed at how rough his voice sounds, making a mental note to retrieve a mug of water for himself as soon as he'd gotten breakfast started. Kili frowns at him, clearly concerned, but nods anyway.

He squeezes his eyes shut, as if to will away the tension that sits behind them. His head feels full, feels as though his brains are pressing out against his skull, and his body feels like it is made of lead. He must have slept horridly, on top of his bad dreams.

"Of all days to feel a wreck," he grumbles under his breath.

He is nearly to their front room when his vision lurches violently and everything goes black.

* * *

Kili is on his feet the second he hears the crashing and clattering from the hall. Even Fili, who can sleep through nearly everything, stirs and wakes, casting a confused glance to his brother before the younger sprints out into the hall.

He trips over his uncle's leg, so lost it was to the darkness, before careening to the cold stone floor, his still-healing arm instinctively coming out to break his fall. He gasps as the stars dance behind his vision, barely suppresses a cry of pain, before he starts pulling at the lump on the floor he presumes is his uncle.

"Uncle?" he calls as his hands ghost over his elder's face. He draws his hand back in shock as he feels how hot Thorin's skin is. "Fee!" he calls, trying very, very hard to quell the panic that he feels (_Uncle is _sick_; Uncle _never_ gets sick!_).

Fili rounds the corner from their room not a second later, having wisely taken the precautions of grabbing his sword and lighting a lantern for them. He kneels next to his brother, passes a hand over his uncle's brow, and sighs. "Kili, listen to me," he commands, making sure that his brother is focused on him before he continues. "I need you to fetch Mister Dwalin and Mister Oin; do you understand?" Kili nods. "Get Mister Dwalin first; I'll need him to help me get Uncle back to bed. And wear both your coats, Kee, and your boots. There'll be a chill after the rains from last night."

Kili's gaze is fixed on his uncle's too-pale face, and he doesn't respond. Fili grips him firmly by the shoulders and shakes him once, forcing fearful brown eyes to focus on him.

"Is he…" the younger mutters. "Fee, I'm scared," he admits.

"I know," Fili soothes as he brushes a hand along his cheek. "I know you're scared; I'm scared too, but I need you to be brave and do this for me, alright?" He drops his hand to Kili's shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "It'll be alright, Kee; just fetch them for me. Please?"

Kili finally nods and scrambles to his feet, rushing to the door and lurching it open.

"Coats and boots, Kili!" he calls out, exasperated, sighing with relief when the lad does as he's told and pulls them on before tearing out the door.

It is still early, the first rays of sunlight are just peaking over the wall protecting their settlement inside the mountain, but he spy's smoke coming from the chimney of the forge, and decides to look for Dwalin there first. He crashes through the door, nearly falling to the ground in his haste, and is relieved to see the warrior poised at his anvil, not minding the peculiar look he is being given.

"Uncle is sick and he fell in the hall and he's not waking up and I think he has a fever and Fili needs you to –" he gasps out.

Dwalin immediately lets his hammer fall to the ground before hastening his steps to the boy and gripping his shoulders tightly. "Slow down, laddie. Take a breath and tell me what's going on," he urges.

"Uncle is sick," he murmurs quietly. "Fili needs your help."

Dwalin frowns, but nods, quickly retrieving the water bucket to douse his anvil and the flames in the hearth. "Have you gotten Mister Oin yet?" he asks.

Kili shakes his head. "Fee said to get you first," he whispers.

"Alright then," the warrior replies, before kneeling down to catch Kili's face in his hands. "You've done well, laddie. You have. Run along and fetch Mister Oin. I'll see to your uncle, yeah?"

Kili nods before rushing to the House of Healing, and is dismayed to find that Oin is not yet in. He all but sprints the distance to the healer's home, throws himself at the door to rouse the older dwarf as quickly as possible.

It is Aerona who pulls the door open; a sleeping Gimli balanced carefully on her hip, her stomach swollen with her second child. "Oh, you Durin boys always do come so early!" she teases before she takes in the stricken look of the lad in front of her. "Dear child, what's the matter?"

"I need Mister Oin," he gasps out. "Uncle is sick."

Her face pales just the slightest bit, but she nods. "He is still sleeping," she explains. "Run on home, dear, and I'll send him straight after you, alright?"

Kili nods and thanks her quietly before running across the marketplace once more. Once he arrives home, he is relieved to see that Fili and Dwalin have gotten his uncle back into bed, and that he is awake, though he seems disoriented.

"Uncle," he breathes as he moves to stand next to his brother at the bedside. "Mister Oin is coming right behind me; he'll be here soon."

Thorin does not respond to him, but Fili wraps his arm around his shoulders and tucks him close to his side. "Thank you, Kee," he murmurs before kissing the top of the lad's head. Kili melts into the embrace, wraps his arms around his brother's waist and buries his face into his shoulder, trembling ever so slightly. "It'll be alright," Fili soothes again. "Mister Oin will have Uncle all patched up in no time at all; you'll see."

"I told you you'd been working yourself too hard," Dwalin grumbles as he presses a mug of water against Thorin's lips, willing him to drink. They fall into a heavy silence, one that is eventually broken by the sound of Oin coming in the front door.

"Hello, hello!" he calls into the house. "I hear a certain kingly cousin of mine is ill?" He smiles as he rounds the corner into the room. "Let's see about fixing you up then, shall we."

Fili, Kili, and Dwalin all watch in silence as Oin examines his latest patient. It is just after he's finished looking in their Uncle's mouth that he speaks up.

"Dwalin, do me a favor and take the lads out of here," he murmurs, his tone still cheery, though there is something decidedly off in it.

Fili shakes his head at the exact moment that Kili says, "No."

"We're not leaving him," Fili elaborates.

"He wouldn't leave us," Kili adds.

Oin glances over to them and gives them a small, reassuring smile. "I think, laddies, that your uncle may be contagious; I simply don't want you to get sick as well."

Fili sighs heavily and nods, making to leave and grasping at Kili's arm to pull him along.

Kili doesn't budge. "No," he repeats, and Fili rolls his eyes.

"Stop being ridiculous," he hisses. "What good does it do you to get sick too? Come on, it's not like we're going to be far away."

Kili still doesn't move, so Dwalin grabs his shoulder and pulls him from the room, nearly tossing him into the hallway with his brother, slamming the door behind him as he does. The younger immediately presses his ear to the door, straining to make out any sound through the thick wood.

"Would you quit?" Fili chides. "You're acting insane; Mister Oin will take good care of Uncle. There's nothing to worry about."

Kili shakes his head. "No, Fee. Something is _wrong_; I can feel it."

Fili sighs and throws his hands up into the air before huffing off to the kitchen to find something to eat. "Have it your own way, then," he mutters as he leaves. "Just come and get breakfast in a few minutes, yeah? You're all skin and bones still."

Kili presses closer to the door, pleased that he is actually able to make out their words, muffled as they are.

"I'll need you to get those boys out of this house, and keep them out," Oin is explaining, and Kili's stomach drops into his boots.

He can hear the frown in Dwalin's voice when he answers. "Why? Can't be more than a simple cold, not at this time of the year."

Oin sighs. "When was the last time he traveled?"

"He got back from Fairfield not two days ago," Dwalin answered, referring to his uncle's short trip to the nearby town of men and back a few days prior. "Does it matter?"

"Did anyone travel with him?" Oin continues, ignoring Dwalin's question.

"Balin did," he responds after a beat of silence. "Oin, what aren't you telling me? Are you expecting my brother to fall ill as well?"

"I fear…" the healer murmurs. "I fear he may have contracted the Walking Death. Balin may have as well."

Kili feels all of the air rush from his lungs. He's heard the stories of what the Walking Death does to men; it makes them so ill that they waste away into nothing before they can recover. Spread through the breath of anyone who is actively sick from it, it ran rampant in a few towns for a few years back. He'd never heard stories of what it did to dwarrows, had never even heard of a dwarf falling ill from it.

"What do we do, then?" Dwalin continues softly in a tone Kili has never heard him use before.

He hears Oin's heavy sigh. "We need to get the lads out, keep them away from this place while Thorin is ill. The three of you could have contracted the sickness already…we'll need to keep an eye on you all, but they cannot stay here."

"No!" Kili shouts and he wrenches the door back open, startling both dwarrows from their conversation. He makes to run to Thorin's bedside, but Dwalin is there to intercept him, hoisting him up into his arms despite Kili's struggles.

"Do all you can for him," Dwalin tosses over his shoulder. "And for my brother. I will keep an eye on the lads." Kili struggles against him, shouting for his uncle. His cries bring Fili round as well, who looks completely flabbergasted by the state his brother is in.

"What's –"

"You lads and I are going to stay down at the Inn for a few days to give your uncle some rest," Dwalin explains.

"Why do we need to –"

"I'll explain later, boys," he says as he gives him a genuinely apologetic smile. "Now get on your coats and your boots. We'll fetch some clothes for you from the market later."

Fili warily looked at his brother, confusion obvious on his face, but he eventually nodded and left the room to prepare to leave. Dwalin followed after him, Kili still struggling against him, and Oin hefted the door shut behind him.

As Fili got himself dressed to leave, Dwalin adjusted his hold on Kili, balancing him on his hip despite the fact that he was just a bit too tall to be carried in such a way, and tucked the lad's head under his chin as he continued to cry.

"Won't you please tell me what's going on?" Fili asks quietly. "Why's he so upset?"

Dwalin sighs, but fixes the lad with a stern gaze. "Oin thinks he may have contracted the Walking Death." Fili pales visibly at this piece of news, and Kili wails harder against Dwalin's chest. "He isn't sure, lad; we must not jump to conclusions. He just wants to quarantine him for a few days, keep you lads safe. Just in case."

Fili nods, numbly.

"Now lad, can you calm your brother down?" Dwalin asks. "It won't do to have him sobbing in the streets."

He nods again, opens his arms to pull his brother into them. "Hush, Kili. Hush," he soothes, carding his fingers through his hair. "It's alright, nadadith; we don't even know if it's serious."

"But he was fine last night, Fee," Kili moaned. "He was fine and now he's sick and he's _never_ sick, Fee!"

Fili swallows the doubt he feels, presses a kiss against his brother's temple if only to give him time to regain his composure. "It'll all be fine, Kee," He huffs out a humorless laugh. "The fates have been too cruel to us already, the Maker won't let them take Uncle, too."

Kili nods against him, takes several deep, gasping breaths to calm himself, and eventually straightens himself up and wipes his eyes, tries to regain some dignity, but winds up just latching to Fili's side as they head out the door. Dwalin leads them through the awakening marketplace, takes them straight to Bombur's tavern and inn.

"Little early for an ale, Dwalin," Bofur teases from where he is pulling down chairs as they walk in, but his smile drops when he takes in the lads. "Some breakfast instead, perhaps?"

"That might be a good idea," he agrees. "And we'll need two rooms for a few days. One for me and one for the lads."

Bofur raises an eyebrow, casts a glance down at the boys. "Is everything alright, Dwalin?"

"Oh, Oin thinks Thorin and Balin may have picked up something when they went to town," he explains lightly, trying not to draw too much concern to the situation. "Wants to keep me and the lads away just in case."

"Well that's not so bad!" he exclaims, making sure to catch Kili's eye as he flashes them a warm smile. He hands Dwalin two keys. "Come back down in ten; Bombur will have some breakfast for you by then."

Dwalin ushers the lads upstairs, sees them to their room before handing Fili the key.

"Whatever you do lads," he urges, gripping each of them on the shoulder, "do not go home until Oin sends for you. Do you understand me?"

Fili nods his acquiescence, but Kili stands still as a stone. Dwalin reaches down and grips his face in his hands gently.

"Promise me, lad," he whispers. "Not until you're sent for." Kili finally nods, and Dwalin knocks their heads together tenderly. "That's a good lad."

* * *

For three days, there is no news, save for that Balin had fallen ill the same day as Thorin. Fili spent most of him time in the forge with Dwalin, working constantly to keep his mind off the situation at hand. He would work until he could barely stand (something he noticed Dwalin was doing as well), then head back to the tavern to retrieve Kili and fall into bed.

Kili grew more despondent with each passing day. He spent the entirety of the first day helping Bofur and Bifur make toys, carving the delicate shapes out of pieces of wood with practiced skill. But, by the end of the day, he'd nicked every last one of his fingers, and Bofur had tutted over him as he bandaged them with a sympathetic smile on his face.

The rest of the time he spends helping Bombur in the tavern, cleaning up the messes and running food and drink to the dwarrows that have stopped by for some comfort. They had kept the news of Thorin's illness under tight wraps, so he tried his best to put on a good face for everyone, tried to quell all of the fears and doubts that were building up inside of him.

On the second night, when Nori comes in for a drink, he sees straight through the lad's façade and asks him why he looks so down, and Kili positively breaks down in tears. Bofur grabs him and ushers him upstairs quick enough, muttering something about Kili missing his mum and da and that the lad is just fine. He sits with him and tells him all of the fables he can remember for his childhood while the lad cries himself out, tucks him into bed once he falls into exhaustion.

The next morning, both lads are eerily quiet when they come round for breakfast. Kili keeps himself pressed close to his brother's side, and Fili keeps one arm slung around his shoulders. The lads are exhausted, he can tell, and Dwalin is too, for that matter. He wonders what it is that Thorin and Balin have fallen ill with, but he doesn't dare ask, not after Dwalin had asked him to keep the nature of their stay secret.

For a moment, he finds himself staring at the two brothers, marveling at their closeness. He thinks that he and Bombur are close indeed, but Fili and Kili are a million times closer. It must be the hardships that they had grown up with, from loosing their parents, from being raised by their uncle, who'd just about lost everything in the world, save for those boys. He finds himself envying their closeness, but not their circumstances as he spoons some more of his brother's baked apple tart onto their plates.

Fili leaves with Dwalin to return from the forge, and he takes Kili with him as he runs errands all around town for the day. He does his best to keep the lad distracted, but he doesn't miss the way Kili's eyes constantly look toward his home, doesn't miss the tenseness in the lad's jaw, doesn't miss the way he worries the bandages on his fingers.

Finally, just as the sun sinks below the wall, and the settlement becomes bathed in twilight, he pulls Kili inside the toyshop he shares with Bifur and urges him to sit on the floor with him.

"I'm worried about you, laddie," he states bluntly. Kili responds only by casting his eyes down to the stone floor. "Now, I don't know what's going on with your uncle, but whatever it is will pass in time. You're worried that he'll die, aren't you?" he asks.

Kili's head snaps up in surprise at the blunt question. Eventually, he nods.

Bofur gives him a warm smile. "Oh laddie," he murmurs as he pats the boy's knee softly. "We dwarrows are strong, and your uncle? He's one of the strongest of all of us. Goblins haven't been able to kill him. Orcs neither. Nor men, nor elves, not even a dragon could kill your uncle! I think it would take much more than a silly illness to bring him down."

The corner of Kili's lips pulls up in a slight smile, one that widens bit by bit as he shows the boy some of the newer toys Bifur has designed, ones with cranks and moving parts and are beautifully, meticulously decorated.

By the time they make their way back to the inn, night has completely fallen. Bofur keeps a hand on the lad's shoulder as he guides them back, and he almost – _almost_ – misses Kili's tiny whispered 'thank you,' before they enter the bustling tavern.

"_There_ you are!" Fili calls as soon as they enter. He looks mildly stricken, and Bofur flashes him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about that, laddie," he murmurs. "Drug him all around town with me today and didn't even get him home in time for supper."

"No; it's fine," Fili stammers out, but he still pulls his little brother into a hug the moment he's close enough to. "Just needed to make sure he was okay, you know?"

Bofur gives him a knowing smile. "Believe me; I do."

* * *

Hours later, when they've retired to their rented room, Fili forces himself to focus on how Kili's breath is steady and even. His mind wants to wander, just as it has since their uncle fell ill. If Thorin didn't recover…well, he had no idea what would happen to them. He'd heard stories, plenty of stories about little orphaned dwarrows who were abandoned to the wilderness. He tried to remind himself that they were _princes_, and that wouldn't happen to them, but he was still faced with the daunting prospect of having to take care of the both of them, all on his own.

Well, he supposed, that wasn't entirely true. He was sure that Mister Dwalin and Mister Balin would do everything they could for them, Mister Bofur too.

A selfish though crept through his mind, one that he was not able to will away.

So much of his life had been about raising Kili, taking care of Kili, protecting Kili, and Kili, Kili, Kili. If their uncle did not recover, it would be more of the same, more of the burden of being a parentless dwarfling tasked to raise his little brother.

'No, _no_,' he thinks fervently. He's not a burden; he's his baby brother, the one person in the entire world who completely loves and adores him, without any precedence or agenda. Not a burden, just a _boy_.

'You're just a boy, too,' his mind unhelpfully supplies; 'a boy who will never have a right childhood because of his burden.'

He squeezes his eyes shut, pulls his brother just a bit tighter against his chest as he tries to quell down his doubts. Even if Kili were _truly_ a burden, he is one that Fili is happy to bear because he is his _brother_; his sweet, baby brother who has never uttered an ill word against him, who has never looked upon him with anything other than love and adoration, who hadn't wanted to be parentless any more that he had. It wasn't Kili's fault, could never be his fault, and it was unfair of him to hold the lad's youth against him.

He sighs heavily and presses a kiss to his brother's forehead, murmuring a soft apology for his thoughts.

He's nearly drifted off himself when he hears the door creak open. In an instant, he has his sword in his hand, has positioned himself between Kili and the door, ready to face down the intruder should they have ill intentions. In the dim light from the lantern the intruder is holding, he makes out the large shape of a tall dwarf, one with an all-too familiar face that has his sword numbly falling from his fingers and clattering to the floor.

"Uncle?" he breathes out.

Kili scrambles out from behind him, and he can _feel_ the smile that pulls across his brother's face. "Uncle!" Kili shouts excitedly as he tears away from the bed and throws his full weight into the much taller dwarf.

Fili sits numb with shock for a beat. For as sick as their uncle had been just a few days ago, there he is, standing and smiling and pulling a now sobbing Kili up into his arms. Thorin's eyes fix on him, and a small, comforting smile is all that it takes for Fili to run to him as well, tears of relief streaming down his face.

"Shhh, lads," Thorin is soothing as he moves them back into the room, as he pulls the door shut behind him. "It's alright; I'm alright. I am well; Mister Balin is, too." He sets the lantern down on the small table beside the bed before he toes off his own boots and sinks onto the mattress with them. "Everything is alright, my boys."

"Was so worried," Kili sobs out, as he curls up against his uncle's side. Fili finds himself nodding in agreement, and is mildly surprised when his brother reaches over to wipe some of the tears he didn't realize he was shedding from his cheeks. Thorin's arms are tight around them and every single doubt he'd had is fading away, causing relief to flood him like a drug. He can feel his limbs shaking, so he presses close to his uncle's side, wraps his arms around him and his brother as tight as he dares and let's the tears of relief and joy fall.

"My sweet little boys," Thorin rumbles, his own voice thick with something Fili doesn't care to identify. "I meant it when I said I would never willingly leave you."

And there is the assurance that Fili has always needed. Because he may have lost his parents, he may have to grow up too fast, he may have to give up his childhood in favor of his brother, but he doesn't have to do it alone.

As long as their uncle is there, he will never be alone.

* * *

Thanks for reeeaaading! Let me know what you think! (PS I love you)


	9. Thirty and Twenty-Four

AN – Hello, lovelies! Again I apologize for the delay. Since the last update, I was kicked out of my townhouse (so they could sell it), moved all of my things into storage, quit my job, moved in with my parents (which is NIGHTMARISH but free), and got a new job. Hooray! Things should be much calmer now and I expect the next few updates to come quickly. Thanks for hanging in there with me!

Follow me on tumblr! displacedhobbit dot tumblr dot com.

I still own nothing. Enjoy!

Warnings: Dwalin says a potty word, mentions of violence, bullying, and character death. Nothing too intense for this chapter. I needed to give you a break for what's to come…heh heh heh.

**Greater than Gold  
**Chapter 9: Thirty and Twenty-Four  
By Displaced Hobbit

"When there is a second son, he is considered the spare. The spare, by all rights, should never sit on the throne, or lord over the land's he is entitled to; in fact it is deeply frowned upon to ever see a spare crowned king. Once he comes of age, the spare must take an oath, one that binds him to protect the king and the prince at all costs, including the very real possibility that he will be forced to give up his life, to ensure that the line endures." Balin chances a glance up at Fili's face, wondering how the lad will react to this bit of news.

As he expected, the prince appears thoughtful, though his face is carefully blank. "So when Kili turns eighty, he will have to take this oath?" he clarifies quietly.

"Aye, laddie; that is the tradition," he confirms. "Though in some rare circumstances, the oath can be taken early. Frerin took it when he was forty-five, before we set out to reclaim Moria. Dwalin took it around the same time, though he was in his fifties."

He mulled over this new bit of information. He had nearly forgotten that Balin was a dwarf lord in his own right, and it would make sense for Dwalin, as a second son, to have taken the oath as well. He wondered how many battles the brothers had fought in, side by side, how many times Dwalin had nearly sacrificed everything for his elder brother, before a horrible thought lodged itself in his mind.

Fili visibly swallows a lump in his throat. "Did…did Uncle Frerin die protecting Uncle Thorin? At Moria?" he asks, his voice tight. He knows better than to ask Thorin about his departed brother, but Balin had brought him up, so he was hopeful that his teacher could give him some more information.

The older dwarf is quiet for a long moment before he answers. "Aye, he did."

Fili feels a cold weight settle into his stomach. He could never – he _would_ never allow Kili to give up his life for him, no matter what the circumstances. He saw how broken his uncle was over Frerin, and he knew he would be just as so, if not worse, if he lost Kili.

"Things would be much different in Erebor, had you lads grown up there," Balin continues softly. "You, as the Heir and Crown Prince, would be doted upon. You would receive the highest education, the best training in weaponry, and the finest smiths to teach you the ways of the forge. Kili would…well, he would be educated, of course, but not in the same way. He would have to train day in and day out to prepare for his role, though most of the time spares are not even aware of their burden until their nearly of age."

He furrowed his brow. "Why aren't they allowed to know?"

Balin offered him a small smile. "Think of your brother, Fili; think of how much he adores and loves you. If he were to know of the oath now, when he is still but a child and completely untrained, what do you think might happen?"

He frowns, understanding the old dwarf's meaning. "He'd get himself into a whole mess of trouble, trying to protect me from things that don't matter."

"Indeed he would," Balin chucked lightly. "He needs time to grow out of his recklessness, to be properly trained for battle. It is…" he hesitates for a moment, fixes Fili with a stern gaze. "You mustn't let you uncle know that I've told you this. It would cut too deep."

Fili nods, trepidation creeping in on him. "I swear it; I won't say anything."

Balin nods in thanks. "Frerin was just twenty when Smaug took the mountain, and he had barely started specializing in his weapon, the axe. When we were wandering from town to town, trying to find a decent place to settle, there was little time to train him, or Dwalin for that matter. We were too focused on just surviving."

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His uncle never spoke of such things, and he felt a bit like he was encroaching on something so very private and personal, yet he wanted to know much more.

"When Thror decided to reclaim Moria, we knew there would be a battle ahead of us. There had been whispers of orcs residing in the mountain, but we did not know how many. Thror had been desperate to find us a home, you see, and we set out for battle." He paused as a heavy, weary sigh passed from his lips. "We lost so many dwarrows that day, Fili. Thror was killed, and Frerin; it was the last time anyone saw Thrain, and we've all presumed that he has passed on. I lost my father, nearly lost Dwalin. They were dark times, indeed."

Fili released a shaking breath. No wonder Thorin was so reluctant to speak of his own family. To have lost so many of them, when his uncle had still been so young, in such a horrific battle…he couldn't imagine it for himself.

Balin gave him a sympathetic smile. "After Thorin had sliced the arm from the Pale Orc, when the rest of our soldiers were carrying him off to toss him in the pit of their dead, an orc came up behind Thorin, intending to kill him." Another heavy sigh, and Fili could swear the old dwarf's eyes had misted over. "Frerin threw himself on the sword meant for his brother. I saw it happen. If he had been better trained…if he hadn't been so young and reckless and headstrong…well, he may have been able to disarm the orc instead. He may have been able to survive the battle." He wiped a tired hand down his face before shaking his head. "It's all just speculation, anyhow."

He sat quiet for a moment, absorbing all that Balin had just told him. "Is that why Uncle is so protective of Kili?"

The elder dwarf chuckled lightly. "I should imagine so. There is a great deal of Frerin, and your father, for that matter, in little Kili. Small, reckless, loves too deeply, even born on the same blasted day."

"What?" Fili asked, genuinely confused. His father's birthday had been in the spring.

"Oh, I should have expected you didn't know," he grumbled. "Kili and Frerin share a name day. It's part of why your mother was so distraught at his birth; her thoughts were so full of your father and her brother, both whom she loved dearly and lost far, far too soon."

"What about when we return to Erebor?" he asked, chewing on his lip nervously. He didn't want Kili to take the oath too young, to follow them to Erebor and possibly get himself killed. He didn't think he could stand it if Kili died protecting him or their uncle.

Balin sighed again. "That, laddie, I don't have an answer to. Your uncle has been very adamant that Kili is not to know of the oath should we leave for Erebor before he is of age. But, you, laddie, will be expected to come with him, as his heir, and the rest of the company that Thorin forms would be tasked with ensuring your survival and the continuation of the Line of Durin."

Fili nodded, feeling greatly relieved that Thorin was already planning on keeping Kili safe, on leaving him behind. It would hurt, he knew, to be without his shadow, but it was much better than living in the constant fear that Kili could forfeit his life for him.

"However," Balin continued; "if Kili is of age when we depart, he will have already taken the oath, and he will be expected to accompany you as well."

The feeling of dread clawed back up his spine again, but he managed a small smile. "Well, Kili won't be of age for fifty-some years. Surely we'll have the mountain back before then."

Balin offered him a smile in return, albeit a fake one. "Only time will tell, laddie."

"Kili, wait," Thorin called over the din of the forge. "You're letting the metal get too thin, here." He gestured at a specific part of the sword his youngest sister-son was determinedly working on. "You don't want to leave any weak spots; the sword will break in battle."

Kili huffed out a sigh as he wiped the sweat from his brow, frustrated. "Do I have to start all over?" he asked. He really, _really_ didn't want to have to start from scratch _again_, not when Thorin had made that face he makes when he is trying to hide his disappointment. He'd been helping out at the forge for nearly five years, and he _still_ hadn't made anything from metal that they could sell.

He did make a lot of hilts and scabbards, and other things from leather, as well as did a fair amount of engravings and embellishments, but Thorin and Fili and Dwalin all worked so well with metal, always crafted such beautiful things, and he couldn't even make a sword without mucking it all up.

"I shouldn't expect so," Thorin replied after taking a moment to look the sword over. "Go and heat it here," he indicated a particular spot on the sword, "and you should be able to reshape it."

He sighed heavily as he blinked back tears of frustration he could already feel forming. Fili made it all look so easy, so _effortless_, and he felt entirely too useless.

Thorin placed a warm hand on his shoulder. "Maybe you should take a rest. Is your arm hurting you?"

His eyes automatically drifted to the jagged scar along his forearm. Of course it hurt; it _always_ hurt. It had been broken _twice_ after all, and he been the worst pain he had ever experienced. Yet, he was too ashamed to admit that to anyone, so he simply shrugged. "It's fine, I guess," he mumbled.

"Kili," he spoke with a warning tone, but his following admonishment was cut short by Gloin pushing through the door, a giggling Gimli perched upon his shoulders.

"Found him, Da!" Gimli happily exclaimed as he pointed a finger at Thorin.

Thorin waved at them in greeting, and Kili sullenly walked over to the fire to reheat the sword as he'd been instructed.

"You've got some company, cousin," Gloin called out, and Kili turned to watch their exchange. "Emissaries from the Iron Hills. Six of 'em."

He didn't miss the way his uncle's entire form tensed up. "And what business do they have with me?" His tone was carefully guarded.

Gloin merely shrugged. "They didn't say. Waiting for you in the market square, though."

Thorin grumbled something under his breath that Kili thought sounded suspiciously like a swear as he strode over to his own anvil to retrieve the sword he was working on before dousing it with water. Kili did the same, casting curious glances at his uncle all the while. He'd never seen him so tense, so _annoyed_ (and he and Fili had done a number of things to make him plenty annoyed), and he wanted to know why.

Balin had taught him about the other dwarf lords, about Dain who ruled in the Iron Hills, and that Dain had turned them away after Erebor had fallen, but that was all he knew. His uncle never spoke of them.

The four of them made for the market square, meeting with Balin and Fili along the way. "What's going on, Fee?" he asked, tugging on his brother's sleeve as they walked.

"No idea," his brother mumbled as he gently pulled his arm away. "Stop it; you're too old for that."

Kili frowned. Fili had never seemed to mind the way he often looped their arms together, or the way he tugged at his sleeve when he was nervous. Yet, he could see the concern that lined his brother's normally cheery features, so he did as he was asked.

He nearly stopped dead in his tracks when they rounded the corner to the market square. He hadn't really known what dwarrows from the Iron Hills might look like, but they were all _big_, nearly as tall as Mister Dwalin and carried two axes apiece on their backs. They were dressed in full armor, and something uncomfortable settled itself into Kili's stomach.

Instinctively, he reached for his uncle's sleeve, only to feel Balin's hand grasping roughly at his shoulder and pulling him back. "You stay with me, lads," he offered in explanation as Thorin approached the emissaries, who were speaking with Nar about the construction of the great halls.

Upon seeing Thorin joining the rather impressive crowd that gathered, one of the emissaries' faces lit up in a wide smile. "Ah, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain! It is good to see you well," he greeted.

Thorin's back stayed tense and rigid. "What business has brought you to Ered Luin?" he asked, wasting no time on formalities. The emissary's face fell slightly, but he seemed undeterred by his uncle's rudeness.

"News has only just reached my lord's hall of the passing of Lady Dis," he explained, and Kili watched as Fili tensed up as much as their uncle. This time, when he reached for his elder's hand, the blond didn't pull away; instead, he squeezed it tighter. "My lord Dain wishes to offer his condolences for your loss."

The tension in the crowd had grown palpable. Most of the dwarrows had known Dis at one time or another, and mention of he death seemed to renew the grief in their hearts. "You may thank him, for me," Thorin murmured finally, his voice having lost much of its bravado.

After a beat of silence, the emissary spoke again. "We also heard she had borne sons, before her passing?" Kili gipped his brother's hand even tighter, as his stomach continued to clinch with that uncomfortable feeling he couldn't hope to will away.

Thorin's anger rose up quickly. "Speak your true business," he spat venomously. "Do not hide your intentions under the guise of condolences for my sister's passing."

The emissary immediately raised his hands in an attempt to placate his uncle. "I mean no offence, my lord," he explained quickly. "My lord Dain only sought to see the legitimacy of these claims. Her firstborn would be heir to Erebor, would he not be? My lord Dain only wishes to see if a true heir exists; nothing more."

Thorin falls silent for a long moment before he calls out, "Fili!"

His brother jumps slightly and wrenches his hand free. He gives him an anxious look before Balin pats him on the back and pushes him forward, a reassuring smile on his face. Kili starts to follow him, but Balin's hand on his shoulder holds him back.

"Remember, laddie," he murmurs as Fili makes his way through the crowd; "you go only if you're called for." He flashes a warm smile and pats his back gently. "Best not to get you mixed up into all these politics if we don't have to."

Kili nods and turns his gaze back to where his brother has come to stand by their uncle. Thorin's arm wraps loosely around this shoulders, a show of pride as well as one of comfort for the lad.

"Quite a bit younger than we'd expected!" the emissary declared. "Fili, is it? How old are you, lad?"

Fili glanced up at their uncle before replying. "Thirty, sir."

"Ah, so you've started learning your craft, and specializing in your weapons, have you?"

Fili gives a small nod. "Yes sir. I've been learning weapons making in the forge, and I train with twin sword."

"Fine skills for a prince!" The emissary declares. "Though most lads learn their weapons from their fathers. As a bastard child, whom do you learn from?"

Thorin's growl is warning enough for the emissary to back off slightly. "I learn from my uncle," Fili answers quietly, though his voice trembles a bit. "As well as from family friends who have helped raise me in my father's stead."

"And what of the other boy?" the emissary asks as his gaze switches back to Thorin. "What of the little elfling who'd rather shoot a bow than learn the ways of his people?" The emissaries, as well as several of the townspeople laugh lightly.

Kili feels his cheeks flush with shame. Even in kingdoms far off from his home, he is still not a proper dwarf. Do dwarrows in the Iron Hills have him at the butt of their jokes, like so many in his own home do? He releases a shaking breath and hopes that his uncle is able to defend him in the face of these strangers.

"He is of no concern," Thorin growls out, but says no more.

Kili's heart sinks into his stomach. No concern, he is of no concern, not even worthy of defending in the face of the emissaries who mock him. His uncle is ashamed of him, ashamed of his rubbish skills in the forge, ashamed of his mediocre swordsmanship, ashamed of his lack of beard, of his smaller size, of _everything_. He felt the familiar prickle of tears behind his eyes, and took that moment to slip out of the crowd that had formed.

No one followed him.

Fili releases the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding the second the emissaries take their leave. His uncle is still tense as stone as they make their way back to the forge.

"What was all of that about?" he asks as soon as Thorin slams the door shut behind him. "Uncle?" he calls again, when his elder makes no sign that he'd heard him.

"That," Thorin nearly snarls, "was Dain trying to weasel his way back into Erebor once more."

"Once more?" I don't…" he trails off, confusion evident in his voice. Thorin flops down heavily in the lone armchair in the forge and wipes a tired hand across his brow. "Uncle, please tell me what's going on," he pleads quietly.

Thorin sighs. "I am sure Balin has taught you of how Dain turned us away after the dragon came to Erebor," he begins, and Fili nods his head. "I suppose that is not entirely true."

Fili's brow furrows in confusion as he settles himself down on the floor, much like he had when he and Kili were but babes, anxious for a bedtime story.

"From the moment your mother was born, Dain sent proposal after proposal for her hand in marriage," he explains quietly. "My grandfather did not agree with his methods, did not think that a marriage should be used for political gains. Love is so rare for our people, and he did not feel it should be snuffed out without a chance for it to come to us."

"Well was he in love with mum?" he asked, genuinely curious. He had heard stories of dwarrows whose love for their Ones went unrequited, and wondered if such a fate had befallen Dain.

Thorin shook his head. "No. At that time, he was next in line for the throne after my father and myself. I suspect he thought a marriage between himself and my sister would secure his hold in Erebor." He sighed again. "Relations between Erebor and the Iron Hills were always on the best of terms, save for Grandfather's refusal to marry of his only granddaughter while she was still a babe. When the dragon attacked…we had thought they would offer of sanctuary, offer us men to help fend off the dragon, and they did, but it came with a cost."

Realization dawned on him. "He wanted mum," he whispered quietly.

Thorin nodded. "Not only that, though. He wanted my grandfather to name him as his heir, to end the rule of the line of Durin in Erebor and to take it over for himself. It was not a price we were willing to pay."

When Thorin's face turned wistful, Fili asked another question. "Do you ever wish he would have paid it?"

Thorin immediately shook his head. "Not once. I saw how happy your father made your mum from the moment they met. I would not wish for that happiness to have ever been taken from her, no matter that we might be better off." A soft smile spread itself across his face. "And I would not have you, or your brother, had we given into his demands. My life would be bleak indeed without the pair of you."

Fili smiled in return. "Why didn't you say anything about Kili?" he asked, genuinely curious. It had struck him as odd that his uncle hadn't corrected the emissary's statement about his brother, that he had brushed it off as though it were nothing.

Thorin sighed heavily. "The less he knows of Kili, the better. Daughters and second sons are often used a political bargaining chips. If Dain wants to think of Kili as a disgrace, as his emissaries so clearly do, then I will let him." He frowns as he rubs his temple tiredly. "It is not ideal to allow others to think ill of my kin, but if it keeps Kili safe, then I will allow it."

Fili nods in understanding. He doesn't particularly like it either, _hates_ to hear people refer to his brother as elfling or speak of him as though he is a lesser dwarf, but if it helps to keep him safe, then he supposes he can let is pass for now. He hadn't realized just how much danger surrounded his carefree little brother, with being a spare and have other dwarf lords out to take advantage of him for their own political purposes. How was he ever supposed to keep him safe from those things? A small feeling of helplessness clawed its way up his throat.

He can't. He can't protect him from everything, just as Balin had said so many years ago.

"What troubles you, nephew?" Thorin asks quietly, jarring him out of his thoughts.

"Mister Balin taught me about the spares today," he said quietly, wisely choosing not to elaborate on what all he had learned based on the way his uncle stiffened in his seat. "Though I'm worried about Kili; he's not a strong enough fighter."

"Not yet," Thorin agrees. "That's why he cannot know until he is eighty, until he is properly trained."

Fili nods in agreement. "I won't breathe a word of it to him," he promises. "I don't like it at all though. It's not his fault he was born second. It seems like a terrible burden to bear."

"I should suppose it is," Thorin murmurs quietly. "Trust that I will do all I can to keep him safe."

"I do trust you, it's just that…Mister Balin said that if we don't leave for Erebor before Kili comes of age then he'll have taken the oath and…" Fili trailed off, chewing on his lip for a moment. "He didn't really act like he thought Kili would survive is all, and I couldn't stand it, uncle."

Thorin slips down from the armchair to join him on the floor and pull him into a warm hug. "You mustn't fret over this now," he whispers fiercely, but he can tell from the thickness of his uncle's voice that Thorin must worry about it every single day. "If things work out well enough I won't need to bring either of you on the quest; you'll stay safe here in Ered Luin and I will send for you once the dragon is vanquished. We will know no loss and you both will be kept safe."

Fili nods against his chest and tries to swallow down the thickness that has formed in his throat. He wants to believe his uncle, he really, truly does, but deep in his gut he worries that everything is going to go terribly, horribly wrong.

Dwalin finds him some hours later, still hacking relentlessly into a wooden practice dummy in the training yard, sweat pouring down his back as he desperately tries to improve his skills. He knows exactly what ails the lad; he'd seen the way his face had fallen at his uncle's dismissal of him. He's seen Kili struggle with his weapons training, seen him break down in frustration when he couldn't get his forms correct, or lost a sparring match against his opponents.

Yet he also sees great potential in Kili, potential that will develop into real skill once he is older and larger. The lad is like a lot of winter-born children – small for his age, slighter than his peers – but there are so few of them around, as many winter-born children die before their first birthday from the cold of lack of food, it is easy to forget. He reminds him of a scrawny, younger Thorin, one who had struggled as much as Kili did now.

"You're gonna blunt your sword if you keep on like that, lad," he comments idly, already forming a plan to handle the situation.

Kili whirls around in surprise, sword slipping from his numbed fingers. Dwalin tuts quietly at the streaks of tears he sees on the lads flushed, dirty face, and makes a mental note to speak to Thorin in the morning if he didn't see him this evening. He'd understood why Thorin had reacted the way he had, but Kili clearly hadn't. It wouldn't do any good for him to explain his friend's actions to the lad, however; he knew he needed to hear it from Thorin and no one else.

"We'll sharpen it back up at the forge tomorrow, yeah?" he continues as Kili bends to pick up his sword. "Swing again, and stop when you hit the dummy."

Kili gives him a look that is confusion mixed with relief, but eventually nods and complies. He grabs a wooden sword from the nearby weapons rack and neatly swings it against the opening Kili has left along his side.

"You're leaving your side open again," he says when Kili squawks in surprise at the hit. "How do you fix that?"

Kili bites his lip in thought for a moment before adjusting his form to close the opening. "Like that," he murmurs.

"Good, good," Dwalin agrees. "Now swing again, and make sure your stance is like that when you kit."

It takes the lad a few tries to get it right, but he eventually succeeds flashes a small smile up at Dwalin when he does. They practice his forms against the dummy for a bit longer, Dwalin pointing out any weak spots he's left for potential attackers, and Kili adjusting his form as he goes.

"Well done lad," he applauds after they've worked for a while. "Now come on; I want you to spar with me."

Kili's mouth drops open comically wide. "I'm not even half as big as you!" he protests.

"I'd say our height difference is about the same as you and a man," he explains. "You're almost never going to be as big as your real opponents, lad, may as well get the practice in now."

Kili still looks doubtful, but he trades his sword out for his wooden one and gets into the appropriate stance. "No hits?" he asks nervously. He's never sparred with the lad before, and he's seen Fili, Ori, and even little Gimli lay Kili out with a well placed hit, so he understands his hesitation.

"You hit me; I won't hit you, just taps," he explains. "Your brother'd have my head if I sent you home all bruised up."

Kili nods, and they begin their match. The lad is fast and agile for a dwarf, aided by both his small size and his youth, and he finds it quite difficult to land a hit on him. Kili actually lands several good hits on him, ones that would have taken him down had they been done with a real sword. Soon enough, the lad's fatigue begins to catch up with him. He is sure that Kili had been training for hours before he'd even set foot in the yard, and they'd been at it for a few hours themselves.

When Kili leaves an opening at his side again, Dwalin swoops in for the hit. He'd intended to only tap the lad, as promised, but Kili stumbled sideways, and he wound up hitting him with the full force of his swing, sending the lad face down in the dirt, gasping for breath.

"Shit!" he hissed under his breath. They'd been doing so well, he'd seen the confidence blooming in the lad's movements. He'd be cross with himself for days if he'd managed to muck that up. "Are you alright, lad?" he asked as he pulled the boy up into a sitting position, straightening his back to help him catch the breath that had been knocked out of him.

Kili nodded, sucking in great gulps of breath as he did. "You said you wouldn't hit me!" he accuses, but he wears a mirthful smile, and he sighs in relief.

"Should go without saying that you don't want to fall on your opponent's sword, yeah?" he jests as he pulls the lad up.

"I thought I asked you to help train my nephew, my friend, not send him sprawling into the dirt," Thorin calls from the side of the training yard, where he is leaning against the fencing with an amused smile on his face.

Dwalin notes the look of apprehension that flits quickly across Kili's face before he appears to become very interested in his boots. "Go and wash up a bit, will you?" he asks, and Kili turns to do as he's told, jogging to the other side of the yard to wash his face and hands in the basin that rests there.

With Kili appropriately distracted, he strides over to Thorin. "You hurt him today," he says simply, without preamble. "When you said he was of no concern," he elaborates at the confusion that crosses his old friend's face. "I suspect he thinks he's shamed you."

"He _what_?" Thorin whisper-shouts. "I didn't think…"

"I know your reasoning," Dwalin interrupts smoothly. "And I agree with you. The less Dain thinks of Kili, the better, but he doesn't know that. All he sees is that you're proud of Fili and not of him. He's been out here training all day."

Thorin frowns as he watches Kili gather his things. "I had not meant to hurt him," he admits quietly.

"I know that," Dwalin murmurs. "Just explain it to him; he'll understand."

Thorin lets his arm drop across Kili's shoulders as they depart from the practice yard. "You held your own against Dwalin quite well today, from what I saw," he praises, squeezing a hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks," Kili murmurs quietly, his eyes still focused intently on the ground in front of him.

He sighs, fully realizing how deeply his words must have cut. When he'd uttered them he hadn't even thought of how Kili would take them, hadn't even considered how harsh they must have sounded to the boy's ears. They fall into a heavy silence as they walk, and Kili looks up in surprise as the wall that barricades them into their alcove on the mountain comes into view. Thorin simply gestures to the ladder at its base, and Kili obediently climbs it.

The small smile that grazes Kili's face when they reach the top reaffirms that he's made a good decision. He sun is setting, painting the sky a myriad of colors and enhancing the green of the forest trees that rest just beyond their settlement. He knows Kili feels more at home with the trees and open air than he does in the mountain, and he cannot blame him. The first years of Fili and Kili's lives were spent in such a place, and he knew they both felt stifled when they had to spend long periods of time under the mountain.

Thorin sits down, makes himself comfortable against the stone of the wall, and gestures for Kili to join him. At this time of day, it is private up on the wall. The night watchmen won't climb it until the sun sets completely and they've returned from their patrols just to the outside. He gestures for Kili to sit next to him, smiling slightly at the way the lad tucks himself into his side as he wraps his arm around him.

Kili has always been affectionate, loving, and that is one of the things he most cherishes about his youngest sister-son, even if Balin constantly urges him to encourage the lad to grow out of it.

"Will you tell me what troubles you, little Kili?" he asks after a while.

It is a long while before Kili responds, and Thorin's heart breaks just a little at his whispered question. "Are you ashamed of me?"

"Of course not," he answers quickly as he squeezes him just a bit tighter. "Not in the slightest, my boy."

"It's just…" Kili's voice cracks a little as he speaks. "You're just so _proud_ of Fee, and I try so hard to be like him but I _can't_ and I don't want you to be ashamed of me because I'm not a proper dwarf and I just…"

"Stop," he urges gently. "I _am_ proud of Fili, and you _are_ very, very different from your brother," he admits and Kili makes a frustrated little noise from his side. "But that does not mean I am any _less_ proud of you," he soothes.

"But it's not _proper_…"

"Kili!" he whisper-shouts in exasperation. "You are thinking in stereotypes, little one. What if all dwarrows were only good at weapons making and mining and sword fighting?"

"I dunno," he murmurs softly, voice pitching higher in frustration.

"We'd have no food, for one," he explains. "We need good hunters, and Dwalin thinks you'll be one of the best, lad. Your skill with your bow will have us eating like kings as soon as you are able to go hunt with him!"

Kili looks up at him with watery eyes. "Really?" he asks.

"Really," he confirms. "And you're quite skilled with leather, aren't you? You've made some wonderful hilts and scabbards and we've been able to sell our weapons for more because of that."

Kili scrunches up his nose. "Gimli says leatherwork is for dwarrodams."

"Gimli is a _child_," he huffs out in frustration.

"Well so am I!" Kili retaliates.

Thorin sees his opening and takes it. "So why do you put so much pressure on yourself to be like an adult?"

Kili opens and closes his mouth a number of times in a spectacular imitation of a fish. "Because Fee does," he settles on finally. "And I want to be like Fee."

"Sweet little Kili," Thorin chides gently. "Why do you wish to be so like him? There's nothing wrong with being yourself."

Kili mulls over his words for a moment. "Because he's nice, and _everyone_ loves him, and he's always…he's always taken care of me and one day I want to be able to take care of him," he admits quietly.

"You will," he murmurs; "of that I have no doubt. But you are forgetting that you are dearly loved as well. There is not a thing wrong with you lad, whether you are a so-called 'proper' dwarf or not; do you understand me?"

The lad nods against his side and murmurs, "yes, uncle."

"And never think that I am not proud of you, Kili," he adds. "I am sorry I caused you to doubt me."

"You said I was of no concern," he whispers, voice catching the tiniest bit.

He leans down to press a kiss against the boy's temple. "I meant that you are of no concern to Dain and his men," he explains. "I did not mean to cause you distress, but it is for the best that he not know much about you."

"Oh," Kili mumbles quietly.

"I only mean to keep you safe, my boy," he continues. "You will understand better when you are older."

Kili nods again, but doesn't say anything else. Thorin hopes that he believes him; he does truly take great pride in both of his nephews, and he makes a mental note to show Kili more often. He has let himself forget about the lad's insecurities with how caught up he has gotten in his own responsibilities.

"Come along, now," he murmurs after a long moment, rising to his feet and helping Kili up as well. "Bombur's invited us for supper, and I think we all could do with some washing up."

The mention of food – specifically _Bombur's_ food – brings a smile to Kili's face and he quickly rushes back to their home. It is enough lightheartedness to almost, _almost_ convince him that he can keep the lads safe and unmarred from the troubles that have followed him his entire life.

Yet, when he takes in Fili's anxious face as he finally returns with his little brother, he knows that things have already started to change, for worse or for better, he does not know, but there is nothing – _nothing_ – he can do to stop it.

Thanks again for reading! Don't forget to let me know what you think!


	10. Thirty-Four and Twenty-Eight - Part One

AN – Hello, sweetings! Shit's about to get real. This is Part 1 of 3 for this age. The events in these three chapters were what originally inspired me to write this series, so hopefully the updates will come pretty quickly! As always, thank you so much for reading and commenting and liking and all that you do. You are all amazing, and I love you.

I still own nothing. Enjoy!

Warnings: Potty words, Fili is an idiot, Kili is clueless, I use potty words, little bit of violence, and un-beta-ed because all three of my betas have dropped off the face of the planet, and my muses are getting OUT OF CONTROL.

**Greater than Gold  
**Chapter 10: Thirty-Four and Twenty-Eight  
By Displaced Hobbit

* * *

As they stand at the gate to what will soon protect the Great Halls (Thorin's Halls, as Nar insists upon calling them), he is filled with a swell of pride. It isn't Erebor, it isn't near as grand or extravagant as they are wont to have, but it will be a _home_ for his people; a permanent, proper home for them to call their own after so many years of exile.

Kili presses closer to his side, wary gaze fixed on the darkness that lies beyond the gate. He knows the lad is apprehensive about being so far underground, so he slides an arm around his shoulders and squeezes gently.

"Come, lads. I wish to show you these halls; they will be your home soon enough." Fili smiles brightly as he hands him a torch, clearly excited to finally get to tour the halls. Construction has been on going, and while only the main halls are finished, and very, very few of the residences have begun construction, he is eager to show his boys what they may inherit.

He has to tug at Kili just a bit to urge him inside the cavern. "You'll get used to it, lad," he soothes. The boy looks absolutely not convinced, but he obediently follows behind his uncle.

"Can it collapse?" he asks, and Thorin frowns to see Fili pull his hand away as his younger brother reaches for it. There's been something going on between the two of them for months now, and he hasn't yet been able to figure it out.

"No, it cannot," he replies.

"But the mines…" Kili insists as they step into the pressing darkness, guided only by the torches that Thorin and Fili carry. "And Da."

Fili answers for him. "That's different, Kee," he murmurs. "The mines follow the veins of gold and mithril in the mountain. Sometimes they lead to a weak spot in the stone, and that can make the cavern collapse."

"When they build halls like these, they clear all of those weak spots," he elaborates, pointing up to the ceiling at a slightly misshapen alcove. "The deeper into the mountain you go, the sturdier the rock is. That's why we build the halls so deep in the mountain."

"Oh," he murmurs into the darkness, hands nervously twisting at the hem of his tunic. Thorin sighs, reaches back and grabs the lad's hand. He glances to Fili's face; frown deepening as he notices him pointedly looking away. He makes a mental note to corner his heir and make him explain what has been going on between the pair.

"You're quite safe in here, lad" he soothes. "Safe from intruders, safe from the elements…it is a much better situation for our people."

Kili nods but presses closer to his side. "It's so dark," he observes.

"Will we have to burn fires all the time to keep it lit?" Fili questions.

Thorin shakes his head as they press deeper into the mountain. "No. When the halls are closer to being finished, they will install a series of mirrors that will pull sunlight into the mountain."

"Mirrors?" both lads ask at the same time.

"We can use them to reflect the sunlight down into the mountain," he elaborates. "You'd have a mirror in each of your rooms and could adjust how bright or dark you want it." He smiles slightly. "It's quite nice, really; almost looks like you're outside."

The boys lapse back into silence as Thorin leads them through the halls, gesturing to different rooms and explaining their purpose. Eventually, the pathway they are following dead ends into the stone face of the mountain. Thorin smiles slightly and presses a hand against the stone.

"Feel this lads," he calls. Fili immediately presses his palm flat against the stone, smile tugging at his lips as his eyes widen in wonder. Kili requires a bit of coaxing, and yanks his hand back as soon his fingers graze the stone.

"What is that?" he asks, cradling his hand against his chest as though it's been burnt.

"The heart of the mountain," he murmurs. "When you get deep enough, you can feel it."

"It's like the mountain is alive," Fili breathes, excitement clear in his voice.

Thorin pats a hand on his shoulder. "Soon your rooms will be carved into this very spot. This will be your home, lads."

Fili's smile falters a bit. "It's so deep though."

"Will we have to stay underground all the time?" Kili asks.

Thorin's elation at showing the lads the halls falters somewhat. "Well, no. I suppose you could spend your days outside, so long as you do not have any duties to attend to."

They both visibly relax; Kili even sags slightly against his side. He feels disappointed that they are not as excited as he is, but he understands that this, living underground, while completely natural to him, is something that his boys have never encountered.

"You would grow used to it," he murmurs again as he rubs Kili's shoulder comfortingly. "Come then. Balin will be cross if I keep you from getting to your lessons on time."

As he silently leads them from the halls, he can't help but feel as though something has been lost that he simply cannot get back.

* * *

"Kili would you just _stop_!" Fili shouts, exasperated beyond belief as he slams his palm down to the table. "Just shut up!"

Kili freezes from across the table, where he had been diligently chopping up the vegetables and meats for their evening's stew and describing his shooting practice with Dwalin in great detail. Fili curses himself at the hurt look that flashes across his brother's features.

He has to do this. He has a _plan_ and it will keep Kili safe and he will see it done, no matter how much it hurts. He bites his lip to stop the apology he can feel welling up in his throat. 'It's for his own good,' he reminds himself yet again.

"Sorry," Kili murmurs, eyes downcast as he returns to his chore. Fili focuses very hard on the notes Balin had given him that morning, wills himself to commit the facts about Durin the Deathless to memory. He was to be quizzed on the information tomorrow, and he needed to know it.

Somehow, the uncharacteristic silence from his brother distracts him more than his prattling about his training. He only lasts a few minutes longer before he flees the kitchen for the relative safety of their shared bedroom.

He _has_ to do this.

* * *

"Fee's mad at me again," Kili complains as he and Ori head back to the marketplace from their lessons.

Ori frowns at him. "What makes you think that?"

He sighs. "He just…I dunno. I bother him all the time, I guess. He doesn't act like he wants me around anymore."

"Brothers just do that sometimes," his friend murmurs. "Nori acts like that to me all the time. Gets into his own foul moods and acts a right terror to everyone."

"But he's thirty years older than you; that makes sense. You're not close with him like me and Fee are." He groans. "Fili is only five years older and he acts like he's grown and I'm just a baby."

Ori shrugs. "Maybe he's under a lot of pressure from Mister Balin? He's started to get a lot more training on being Thorin's heir, hasn't he?"

"Yea," Kili confirms, scuffing his boots as he walks. "I guess that's all. It just that…sometimes…"

"Sometimes what?" Ori questions as he grabs Kili's shoulder and stops their walking. "Kili?"

"I just think he hates me sometimes," he murmurs. He shakes his head and shrugs. "You're probably right though."

"If he stressed then maybe you could get him something nice to cheer him up?" Ori suggests. "Or make him a new dagger or something?"

"I'm no good at smithing; you know that," Kili murmurs, almost bitterly. "Though I could probably carve something for him."

"I'll bet Thorin would make the blade for you if you asked him to," Ori supplies. "He'd probably even help you make it, if you wanted to."

Kili bites his lip for a moment, thinking. It would be a nice gift, and surely something to pull his brother out of whatever foul mood had seized him for months on end. He could make one that would fit just inside his bracers, could carve the hilt himself, maybe even do some etchings on the blade to make it an even grander gift.

Smiling brightly at his friend, he nods. "I think that's a perfect idea, Ori!"

* * *

"Uncle?" Kili calls out over the din of the forge. He knows he needs to be as sneaky as possible if he wants to keep his surprise intact, especially knowing that Fili is working with Dwalin just a few feet away. "Can I speak with you outside?"

Thorin casts him a confused glance as he wipes his brow, but nods and sets his work aside for the moment.

"Does something trouble you, Kili?" he asks as soon as the door swings shut behind him.

He shakes his head. "I was hoping you'd help me make something, if you weren't too busy," he says, fidgeting with his hands slightly. He pulls a piece of parchment from his pocket and shows his uncle the tentative plans he has made for the dagger.

Thorin raises an eyebrow at him. "And is this for someone in particular?" he asks. "You're a bit young for courting gifts, aren't you?" he jests, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Courting…?" Kili wrinkles his nose in disgust. "What? No! I wanted to make it for Fee!"

Thorin laughs lightly. "I was only teasing you, lad," he murmurs. "For your brother, then. Why? His birthday was not two months ago."

"I know," Kili concedes. "But he's been in a bad mood lately. I think he is stressed about whatever he is learning from Mister Balin." The lad frowns just the slightest bit. "I just want to give him something that will cheer him up is all."

His uncle looks very thoughtful for a moment, before he nods and moves to head back inside. "Grab an apron, lad. This shouldn't take more than the afternoon to complete."

* * *

"Fili?" he calls into the sitting room. "Could you come here for a moment, please?" He hears the sound of a book closing and feet dragging across the cold stone floor.

"Yes, Uncle?" his heir responds as he pokes his head through the door. He looks tired, frazzled and worn. Balin had not mention anything about him struggling in his studies, and Dwalin was still singing the lad's praises in his weapons and forge training, but it was still very evident that there was something troubling his eldest sister-son.

"Come in, lad," he murmurs. "Sit," he adds, gesturing to one of the two large armchairs that sit opposite of his desk. The desk is strewn with papers and maps and letters, and he means to clean it up, but he has just been so _busy_. He'd barely had any time to spend with his nephews, had barely even noticed the rising tension between them.

Fili picks at the hem of his tunic, his eyes downcast, and says nothing.

"You seem troubled, lad," he observes.

Fili just sighs and sinks farther into the cushion.

Thorin frowns. "Tell me," he urges.

"There's just…" the lad mumbles, hesitating. "There's a lot to learn. Some things I don't like to know about. I don't…" His voice trails off and he makes no move to continue, but Thorin still allows him the time to gather his thoughts.

He knows it is unlike Fili to be so _distant_. Even if he isn't voicing his troubles to Thorin, he's _always_ sharing them with Kili. The fact that his youngest sister-son was just as clueless to his behavior as of late only unsettled him further. Fili was acting like _him_, brooding and shutting everyone else out, and he knew from a great deal of experience how unhealthy that was.

"Sometimes I just wish I wasn't your heir, I guess," he finally mumbles, his eyes still downcast and his shoulders hunched, clearly ashamed with his admission.

To Thorin, it feels like a punch to the gut. He doesn't know quite what to say. Yes, it could be a burden to be a crown prince, but one day he would be king, would be loved by all of his kin and respected by all others in Middle Earth. Only…there was no kingdom for him to rule. There were no subjects who adored and respected him. He was a prince in name only, had never experienced any of the luxuries that came with his title. He had instead been only burdened with the hard knowledge, the impossible expectations that he struggled to live up to.

Thorin wondered just how much pressure Fili was putting on himself, how much pressure he'd _let_ the lad put on himself without helping him through it.

"Are you disappointed in me?" he asks quietly, chancing a glance up at his uncle through his fringe.

"Of course not," he murmurs, honesty clear in his voice. "I hadn't thought…I hadn't considered how hard this must be for you, my boy. I'm sorry."

Fili's head snaps up; he's clearly surprised by his uncle's understanding.

"It is easy for me to forget that you are being trained to rule a kingdom that doesn't exist right now, that you're learning the laws and customs of a people long forgotten." He sighs, gnaws at his bottom lip for a moment. "Perhaps we should lighten on your training a bit?"

The lad ardently shakes his head. "It's not that," he interjects. "If we go back to Erebor soon then I want to know; I don't want to have to play catch up." He sighs and fidgets with the hem of his tunic. "It's…I can handle it, Uncle. You don't need to worry about me."

Thorin frowns. "You wouldn't fall too far behind in a few weeks," he reasons. "And it would be nice to have your help around the forge."

"I can _handle_ this, Uncle," Fili tries again. "I won't let you down. I don't need to stop my training."

"I have no doubts that you can manage this, Fili," he murmurs soothingly. "But there is not a thing wrong with taking a break, with asking for help."

Fili clearly looks put out by this new information.

"I'll inform Balin in the morning," he affirms just as Fili starts to protest once more. "It will be good for you, lad. Even your brother is starting to worry for you."

Fili's mouth snaps shut at that comment. He murmurs something under his breath that Thorin doesn't catch, but he doesn't question it. The lad thanks him quietly as he leaves, but Thorin can't manage to shake the feeling that something is still decidedly off with his heir.

* * *

If he is honest with himself (and sometimes he is _not_), he has enjoyed his past week off from Balin's lessons. He's still been allowed to spar with Dwalin and Gloin when they have the time, and he's had a lot of work to do at the forge, but he has immensely enjoyed the copious amount of free time he's found himself saddled with. It _has_ lightened his heart, quite a bit, really.

It helps that, though he has been given a respite from his lessons, Kili has not (something his brother has pouted about on more than one occasion thus far). The only times he has seen his brother has been for meal times and to sleep. It gives him plenty of time to think, gives him time to figure out the next stages of his plan.

He's mostly done with the first part. Kili is becoming more and more distant from him each day. It had started as soon as he'd requested the separate beds from their uncle just after his thirtieth. Oh, the look of betrayal in Kili's eyes had stung, but he had to do this.

Balin was right; they were too close, and Kili loved far too deeply for his own good.

It was little things after that – refusing to hold his hand if he was scared, pushing him from his bed if Kili crawled in after a nightmare, acting disinterested in the stories Kili would tell – little things that he could see building and building in his brother. But it wasn't enough. Kili still reached for him, still crawled into his bed when he was scared, still _tried_. He needed to do something more.

If he were to truly make Kili hate him, he'd have to do something much, much more. He just doesn't know what it will take.

"Fee!" his brother calls out as soon as he bursts back into their home. He is obviously excited; his entire form is positively vibrating with energy. He is covered in a fine layer of soot a smells distinctively of hot metal. He must have made something half-decent at the forge, finally.

He steels himself. He _has_ to do this. It's for Kili's own good.

"Look, Fee!" he exclaims once he's rounded the chair he is sprawled in, something small and wrapped in cloth in his hands.

Without thinking of his plan, he obediently takes the object from Kili and pulls the cloth back. The dagger that sits inside is very well made, if he's honest with himself (but he's _not_, most of the time anyhow). It is lightweight but feels sturdy enough, slender as it may be. The blade itself has light etchings carved along it, for allowing blood to flow easily off the blade as well as for decoration. The hilt is made of oak, carved to look like the very tree the wood has come from and polished so that it is nearly as gleaming as the blade itself.

"Did you make this?" he asks as he turns the blade over in his hands to inspect it further.

Kili nods, smile brighter than the sun on his face. "I made it for you. See?" he points to the bottom of the hilt where, sure enough, among the grooves and patterns of tree bark, Fili's sigil is carved into it. He feels a lump lodge itself in his throat. It's the finest thing Kili has ever made, and he'd made it for him.

"I know you've been working really hard, nadad," Kili continues, and his smile falters ever so slightly. "I know I've been annoying you…and I'm just…" The smile fades completely when his little brother ducks his head. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I just want you to be happy again."

With Kili looking away, he bites down hard, early grinding his teeth as he squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't want to do this.

But he _has_ to. It's for Kili's own good.

"Well you're not going to make me any happier by giving me such a rubbish dagger," he grinds out, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

As expected, Kili turns disbelieving, hurt eyes up to look at him. He carelessly tosses the dagger toward the fire, not into it, not wanting to undo all of his brother's hard work. Kili's gaze stays on the discarded gift, even as he stands and pushes past him. He can feel that he is dangerous close to crying, he hates what he's done ('You _have_ to do this,' he reminds himself), hates that he's hurting Kili on _purpose_, sweet little Kili who has never truly wronged him in all his life.

He only makes it about three steps before Kili shoves him hard in the back.

Well. That was unexpected.

"What's the matter with you?" his brother snaps, and when he turns to look back at him, he can see the hurt and the anger burning in his gaze. "You've been a fine arsehole for _months_ and I haven't done anything to deserve it!"

"Oh please," he hears himself yelling back. "You've no idea, do you? How much of a burden you are?"

Real, genuine hurt flashes across Kili's face, and for a moment he nearly stalls out, nearly stops his tirade to beg for his brother's forgiveness. But he has to do this. He has to push him away, as far away as he can get him.

"I'm not…I didn't mean to…" Kili flounders, turning tear-filled eyes up to his brother.

He scoffs. "Look, and now you'll cry again. You'll cry and run to Uncle and make him take care of you. It's childish. Pathetic." His words taste like ash in his mouth.

"I am a child!" Kili snaps back. "I'm allowed to be sad and be scared and cry if I feel like it!" He takes in a shaking breath. "You're not _grown_, Fee. You think you're better than me, than Ori and all the other dwarflings but you're _not_." He takes in another, deeper breath to steady himself. "You're not grown. You don't have to act like it."

His resolve quavers. Kili is right, one hundred percent, and he knows it. His brother must see his moment of weakness, for he reaches out and places a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezes.

"You're not, Fee," he affirms. "You're still a child too."

He wrenches himself away from his little brother as hard as he can. "I am a prince," he snaps. "And one day I will be king. And what will you be?" he jeers. "You'll still just be a mopey little dwarfling, Kili. That's all you'll ever be."

In truth, he doesn't expect the swing that Kili takes at him. In truth, he is acting on pure instinct from years of training when he easily dodges it. In truth, he hadn't felt his hand balling up into a fist, hadn't felt it when it smashed into Kili's cheek and sent him careening to the floor.

But he sure did feel his heart shatter at the absolutely broken look Kili shot up at him as he righted himself, disbelief and hurt and betrayal and anger all mixed into one.

Too far; he's gone too far.

"Kee," he murmurs softly, stooping and reaching for his brother who pulls back from him.

"Don't," Kili warns, his voice tight, on the edge of tears that Fili knows he's only keeping in because of his own words.

"Nadadith," he calls again as Kili rights himself, hand cupping his cheek. No, no, no. This is too much. This was a stupid plan. He was stupid. He'd gone too far; all of this had gone too far. "Kili, please; I didn't…" he stammers out as he reaches for him again.

"Stay away from me," Kili murmurs, his voice trembling. "Go away." He makes for their bedroom, but Fili is too numb to follow him until the sound of the door slamming shut and the bolt sliding into place snaps him out of it.

He runs to the door, uselessly tries then handle and nearly screams in frustration when he knows he cannot open it. "Kili, open the door," he begs, slapping his open palm against the heavy wooden door. "Please, Kili."

No sound comes from the other side, no muffled movements, no shuffling feet, no muted sobs. Nothing comes from his little brother, his precious baby brother. How could he have ever thought this would work? That this could be right. No, no, no. He'd ruined _everything_. He'd loose Kili and it would be his own damn fault.

But that had been the plan, hadn't it?

He sinks down to his knees, presses his forehead against the door as he sighs out a sob. "Please," he begs one more time before breaking down entirely.

Silence is his only answer.

* * *

Thorin wipes a tired hand across his face. Balin's news had been a heavy blow to him. There was already far too much going on now, with all of the work they had at the forge and the building of the great halls, sidelined by the fact that winter was fast approaching and he worried he would have barely enough coin to secure supplies to get them through it. Dealing with Dain on top of all of that…he couldn't focus on that right now. He'd have a week at least to formulate some sort of plan.

He's only just gotten himself in the house, has only managed to toe off his boots at the door when he hears the muffled crying. "Boys?" he calls, concerned when there is no response. He hastily removes the rest of his gear, haphazardly throwing his weapons to the floor in his rush to find out what is going on.

He expects to find Kili brooding over one thing or another, Fili perhaps comforting him. He does not, in a million years, expect to find Fili hunched in front of the door to his room, shoulders shaking violently as soft sobs wrench their way from his throat.

"Fili," he breathes out, panic lacing his voice. He kneels next to his heir, immediately begins searching him over for any hurts, becoming more concerned when he finds none. He reaches up to cup the lads cheek and presses their foreheads together. "Fili, lad. Tell me what's wrong," he urges.

"I'm so _stupid_," he sobs out. "I thought…I thought it was a good plan but it's stupid. I've ruined _everything_."

His words are hard to make out with how fiercely his voice quakes from the force of his sobs. "Nothing is ruined, my boy," he soothes, bringing his free hand around to rub his arm comfortingly. "Whatever this is, it can be fixed."

"It _can't_!" he whisper shouts as he lets his head drop to Thorin's shoulder. "I _hit_ Kili, Uncle! He's never going to speak to me again." He dissolves completely into sobs then, and Thorin can do little more than wrap his arms tightly around him.

He reaches up to try the handle, and he is unsurprised to find the door locked. "Kili?" he calls. "Are you alright?"

For a moment, there is nothing more than Fili's quieting sobs. "M'fine, Uncle," Kili murmurs, sounding anything but.

He finally decides that Fili is his most pressing concern, so he urges the lad to his feet and practically drags him to their sitting room, settles him into one of the armchairs before kneeling on the floor in front of him. He grasps the lad's face in his hand and shakes him gently.

"Fili, look at me," he urges. Clearly, he has underestimated how stressed the lad has been recently. He'd seen the rising tension between the brothers, but he'd assumed it had just been a side effect of Fili's struggles with his own duties. He had hoped that the week off from his studies would have diffused the situation. Evidently, he'd been very, very wrong.

"Such a stupid plan," Fili mutters out, and Thorin is mildly pleased to see that he is starting to breathe easier, that his sobs are starting to lessen.

"What plan, lad?" he asks, cupping Fili's face in his hand again and brushing his cheek with his thumb.

Fili coughs out a sob. "To make Kili hate me," he explains, before dissolving into another fit of tears.

"To _what_?" he barks out, shocked to his core. "Why would you…?"

"Because if he hates me he won't die for me!" Fili interrupts with a whispered shout. "If he hates me, he's _safe_."

The sudden realization of just what Fili had been intending to do, of what he'd _been_ doing for months, dumbfounds him. "That's ridiculous," he murmurs. "You can't have thought that would work?"

"I…I just had thought that…" Fili struggles to find the right words, and he eventually stops trying to.

"I…I will be honest with you, my boy," he murmurs quietly. "When I was just a bit older than you, I thought the same thing."

Fili turns tear-filled eyes up to him. "What?"

"We were on the road, traveling from place to place…one more than one occasion I made very sure to leave him behind." He feels a slight smile tugging at his lips. "But the trouble with little brothers is that, no matter what you throw at them, they still just…love you. They follow you to the ends of the Earth."

Fili's face crumples.

"I'd bet all of the gold in Erebor that if I were to ask Kili what was wrong, he would say that _you_ hate _him_," he continues, keeping his tone level and soothing. "I don't think it could ever be possible for him to hate you, no matter what you've done."

The lad shudders slightly. "I…I wish he would," he murmurs finally.

"You don't" Thorin corrects. "As much as you hurt right now, with just the thought that you may have made him hate you? You would want that forever?"

Fili sags deeper into the cushions. "No. No, I don't want that at all," he admits. He looks exhausted, looks aged well beyond his years.

"You should sleep, Fili," he murmurs.

Fili shakes his head. "I need to talk to Kee," he insists. "I need to apologize."

"You are exhausted. You need to sleep," he urges. "You can use my room for the night. I will tend to Kili for now."

"No, Uncle, please," he protests again, though much weaker this time.

Thorin presses a kiss to his forehead. "How long?" he asks. He needs to know how long Fili has placed this burden upon himself, needs to know just how much he'd missed.

Fili chews his lip for a moment before answering. "Since Mister Balin taught me about spares," he admits.

Four years. This had been going on for four years, and he'd been completely blind to it. Kili had never come to him with concerns about his brother, not until last week. Fili had not shared his fears and doubts with him. When they were younger, they'd told him everything. But now…they were growing up. Soon, sooner than he'd like, they'd be full-grown and would barely need him at all.

"Sleep, Fili," he commands again, running a hand through the lad's tangled hair. "You can speak with your brother in the morning."

Fili finally nods his ascent, and Thorin is almost positive that he's asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

He sighs heavily as he pulls the door to his bedroom closed. One nephew tended to; one more to go.

"Kili, lad," he calls as he raps his knuckles lightly against the door. "Won't you let me in, please?"

He hears nothing from inside the room for a moment, until the quiet sound of the lock sliding open breaks through the silence. The door doesn't open, but he takes it as an invitation anyway and pushes the door forward. He almost misses the lad when he steps into the room, as he's huddled beside the door, back pressed against the wall and knees hugged tight to his chest.

"I tried really hard," he whispers as Thorin sits beside him. His cheek is only lightly bruised; truthfully he had been expecting much worse with how upset Fili had been. "I tried really hard but it still didn't help. I just made everything worse."

He doesn't hesitate to wrap an arm around his youngest. "You've done no such thing," he soothes gently. "This is…this is out of your control, my boy. This is for Fili to figure out."

Kili sighs and presses his cheek against his uncle's chest. "I just want to help," he murmurs.

"You do," he assures the lad. "Fili…well, I have set him straight again, I think. He got the idea into his head that you'd be better off if you hate him."

Kili's head snaps up, confusion marring his features. "Why would he think such a stupid thing?"

Thorin just barely resists the urge to chuckle at his youngest sister son. "You will understand when you are older."

The lad's eyes narrow the tiniest bit. "I don't want to understand when I'm older; I want to understand _now_."

He sighs, knowing that he owes some sort of explanation to the boy, knowing that he needs to tell him something to repair the rift that is ever growing between the two of them. "Remember when I told you that, though both of you are truly princes of Erebor, you will have very different duties?"

Kili nods silently, picking at an invisible piece of lint on his pants.

"Well, Fili has started to learn of his duties, and I think it has overwhelmed him a bit," he explains. "That is why he has been acting so strangely; he thinks he has bitten off more than he can handle. He hasn't, not really, but I think he sees that now." He sighs and brings a hand up to card through the lad's unbraided hair. "Think of Balin and Dwalin; they are both sons of a dwarf lord of high standing in Erebor. After you lads and my cousin Dain, they are next in line for the throne."

"I didn't know that," Kili says quietly.

"I am not surprised; Balin has not yet started your lessons on being a prince," he replies. "But think on this: Fili's tasks are much more like Balin's. He must be a scholar, must be very familiar with the laws and politics associated with our culture. He must also be a warrior, a strong one that others can look up to and follow for guidance. You, little one, will grow to be much like Dwalin. You will be in charge of managing and training Erebor's armies, and you will be expected to protect your king and crown prince, once you are of age."

"I'm going to be like Mister Dwalin?" Kili murmurs, just a hint of awe in his voice.

Thorin smiles lightly. "In time, yes."

Kili is thoughtful for a moment before frowning. "But why is that making Fee upset?"

"Oh, it's not truly that," he lies. "In truth, he struggles over the thought that you'll one day be in charge of protecting him, since he's spent so much time taking care of you. It was hard for me to do with your Uncle Frerin as well, but it is a transition we all must make. He just feels an immense amount of pressure right now, and that is partly my own fault."

The lad peers up at him. "How?"

"I have been neglecting my boys, haven't I?" he asks, and from the way Kili's eyes fall to the floor, he knows he is right. "I have gotten too busy with other things, kept saddling your brother with more and more responsibilities, and I have pushed him too far." He sighs heavily. "Had I not been so consumed with my own dealings, I would have seen your brother's turmoil sooner. I am to blame for his lashing out at you, lad. And I am sorry."

Kili is quiet for a moment. He honestly expects the lad to argue with him, to be as stubborn as he certainly was at that age (and still is, truthfully). "S'fine, Uncle," he murmurs eventually. "Is Fee going to be alright?"

He squeezes the boy a little tighter against his side. "He will; I am sure of it. But I need you to promise me one thing," he adds, and Kili looks up at him expectantly. "If this ever starts happening again, this thing where he pushes you away or stops talking to you? You let me know right away." He sighs. "Your brother is his worst critic. He will continue to push himself too far if we let him. And I…well; I haven't been as vigilant as I should have been. So you'll help me, won't you?"

Kili gives him a small smile in return. "Yes, Uncle."

"I fear…" he starts, rubbing Kili's arm gently when he feels the lad tense beside him. "I fear your brother will need your support in these coming years."

"I'll do anything to help him," Kili murmurs, without any hesitation. "I mean it."

He presses a kiss to his youngest sister-son's temple. "Thank you," he barely whispers, but from the way Kili's arms wind their way around his shoulders in a warm and affirming hug, he knows he's been heard.

* * *

Hours later, once he has finally coaxed Kili into bed and affirmed that Fili is sleeping peacefully, he finds himself perched on his armchair in front of the fire. He should be sleeping, he knows. He is _exhausted_ and is running himself ragged – his perceived negligence of his nephews is proof enough of that – but there is so much more he needs to get done.

He stares down at the blasted piece of parchment the raven had brought earlier that afternoon, reads the words once more, even though he'd committed it to memory before he'd ever returned home.

_Thorin, son of Thror, son of Train, King Under the Mountain, and Heir, Fili, son of Dis, are hereby summoned to court with Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills to be held in Bree, beginning at the dawn of Autumn. The Lord of the Iron Hills wishes to validate the legitimacy of this potential Heir to Erebor. It is requested that the Heir's tutor, Balin, son of Fundin, and weapons master, Dwalin, son of Fundin, attend court as well._

_Should you choose to refuse this invitation to attend court, the Heir will be considered invalid, and the Lord of the Iron Hills will stake his claim to the throne of the Lonely Mountain_.

He grinds his teeth, trying very hard to quell the rage he was feeling. Dain was pushing his hand far sooner than he had anticipated, and was being sneakier than he would like. He was, undoubtedly, backed into a corner, and the tension between his nephews, alleviated as it may be for the evening, was not helping things.

He rubbed a tired hand down his face as he fought the urge to cry.

Damn that dragon. _Damn_ him.

* * *

Ohhhhh shit's about to get real. Thanks for reading, friends. You're amazing!


	11. Thirty-Four and Twenty-Eight - Part Two

AN – I am so, so sorry that this has taken me so long to finish. I am still not 100% happy with it, but I don't think I am going to make it any better anytime soon. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you all so much for being so supportive and loving of me and this story.

* * *

** Please Read:** Those of you who follow me on tumblr know that part of the delay on this chapter was because I had to STOP WRITING due to guest review hate I was receiving on this site. Again, I strongly recommend that you check out the FAQ (on my tumblr page; it has it's own link at the top) and that you **READ THE WARNINGS**. Please do not send me hate because you did not read the warnings; they are there for a reason. If you don't understand something in the chapter **review while logged in so I can answer it for you**. I try to respond to every review that has a specific question or that I think you're sounding a bit confused.

It is also important to essentially treat this story as an **AU**. Fili and Kili's childhood is not cannon, there's no mention of it in the book, and as you'll see in the FAQ a lot of this story comes from my own head-cannons. Please do not send me hate because you're upset that I haven't addressed things in the book, or that I have left things out for now.

**If the anon hate on this site continues, I will remove the story.** Seriously. You have no idea how hurtful this has all been and it started to twist something that I loved into something that I dreaded. I know a lot of you are very sweet and loyal to the story and I truly, absolutely appreciate you, but I cannot keep coming home to an inbox full of guest review hate.

Anyway, to those of you that have been stellar, thank you so much for reading and staying in this with me. I hope you enjoy this one!

* * *

I still own nothing. Enjoy!

**Warnings**: Potty words, Fili has Filings, Poppa Bear Thorin, angstttttt (way more than I intended; my bad).

* * *

**Greater than Gold  
**Chapter 11: Thirty-Four and Twenty-Eight – Part 2  
By Displaced Hobbit

* * *

It is late when he returns home.

They are to leave at first light if they have any hope of making it to Bree before autumn begins, and he'd needed to ensure that all of their ponies were properly saddled and stocked with all of the supplies they'd required for their journey. He should still be able to grab a few blessed hours of sleep before dawn, at least.

He smiles slightly as he nears his home. One of his nephews must have stoked the fire before going to bed, as the front room window glows with warmth. It is a small comfort, one that he knows he will miss once they are on the road. He does not expect to see one of his nephews still awake, curled up in one of the armchairs that face the fire, but he is unsurprised nonetheless.

"You should be sleeping, lad," he murmurs. "You've a big day tomorrow."

"Big day of bein' left behind, you mean," Kili mutters, almost bitterly, and Thorin cannot blame him. He has only had to separate the lad from his family on very rare occasions, and every time he had entrusted the care of his youngest sister-son to Dwalin and Balin. Now, with the brothers accompanying Fili and himself to Bree, Kili was truly being left behind.

"We've discussed this," he says gently, coming around to squat in front of the chair, gently pulling the carving the lad was working on from his hands. "It is safer for you."

Kili sighs as he lets his head fall against the back of the chair. "I know," he mutters despondently. "But I just…I just thought I'd be older, I suppose. And Fee is still so…" he waves with his hands as he tries and fails to find the right words.

"I know the timing is not ideal," he says as he cups the lad's face in his hands and presses their foreheads together. "Six months is not so long a time, after all."

Kili frowns hard at him, and when he blinks a few tears manage to slide down his cheeks. "What if you don't come back?"

"Oh, my _hofukel_ (joy of all joys)," he whispers, maneuvering the lad so that he is able to sit on the chair and pull him into his arms, despite how big he is getting. "You mustn't let such dark thoughts in. We will be back with the spring; I promise you."

Kili curls instinctively against him, ducks his head under his chin as his arms wrap around to hold him close. "I'm scared," he admits, and Thorin _hates_ that he can feel how badly he is shaking. "I'm so scared that you won't come back." The lad's small hands tangle in his hair, fingers curled around the strands like a lifeline.

He doesn't quite know what to do for him. He has no words of comfort to offer him, no solid reassurances he can give; he has nothing but their embrace and the same promise of return he's uttered the entire week. Eventually, he starts humming a lullaby that his mother used to sing to him, one that he has long forgotten the words to. When Kili's trembling stops and his breathing evens out in sleep, he doesn't have the heart to wake him and put him back in his own bed. Sighing, he gives up on his desire for one last nights sleep in his warm and comfortable bed and hugs Kili closer as he finally drifts off.

* * *

"All right then laddies; we look to be all set," Balin declares as he smoothes a hand across his pony's mane. "We'll need to get a move on, soon."

Fili glances at the small company that will be travelling to Bree alongside him – his uncle, Dwalin, Balin, and three of the dwarrows from the town guard – before turning back to his brother. Kili is standing with Bofur, who looks like he just rolled out of bed to retrieve the lad, but has a hand gently resting on his shoulder. Right; it's time for goodbyes. He watches, smoothing his fingers along the braid Kili had crafted into his hair just hours ago, as his elders bid his little brother farewell.

Balin claps a hand on his shoulder, tells him to finish all of the reading he's left for him, but wears a smile to show that he's not overly serious. Dwalin is uncharacteristically tender as he leans down to knock their foreheads together gently, murmuring for him to "train hard" while they are gone. Thorin envelops him into a warm hug, squeezes him tight and presses a kiss against his temple. He tells him to mind Bofur, to stay out of trouble, and whispers that he loves him.

Then it's his turn. Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin busy themselves with their ponies to give them an illusion of privacy, and he is enormously grateful as he gathers his baby brother in his arms and hugs him as tight as he dares.

"Don't do anything stupid," Kili mumbles from where his face is pressed against his neck.

"I won't," he promises easily, kissing the crown of his head. "You neither," he murmurs.

Kili nods and squeezes him a little bit closer. "Love you," he whispers, and Fili can tell how close he is to tears from the quiver in his voice.

"Love you," he whispers back. Thorin clears his throat from behind him, so he pulls away from his baby brother. He catches the lad's face in his hands and presses their foreheads together. "I'll see you soon, alright?" he asks, brushing his thumbs along Kili's cheeks to wipe away the few tears that have escaped.

His brother gives him a watery smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Course," he murmurs. Kili's hands fall away from him to hang limply at his sides, and he looks so despondent that Fili presses one more kiss against his forehead. He knows he's treated his brother horribly lately, knows that Kili has forgiven him, but is still terrified to leave him behind, terrified to leave things as broken as he feels they are, terrified that Kili will have decided that forgiving him had been a reckless, stupid mistake, that he won't return home to a warm smile, that he'll instead be faced with coldness from his little brother.

Then Thorin's hand is on his shoulder, gently easing him away. "Come on, lad," he murmurs softly, and Fili turns to follow. "Don't look back," his uncle urges. "It's harder to leave if you look back."

He takes the reigns of his pony and follows their company down the path that leads to the forest, never once looking back, following his uncle's instructions despite the longing and pain in his chest. He's not even out of Kili's sight yet and he misses him fiercely.

If he would have looked behind him, he would have seen Kili press his face against Bofur's side, would have seen the toymaker's arm drape around him and rub at his back comfortingly, would have seen his brother's shoulders shaking with the force of his tears. If he would have looked behind him, he would have lost all of his resolve to go on this journey, would have abandoned his responsibilities in favor of his brother.

He doesn't look back, but Thorin does, and from the pain and regret that flashes across his uncle's face, he's glad he hasn't.

* * *

He'd only traveled with Thorin a handful of times, and only to Fairfield, the town of men that sat farther down the mountain than their own settlement. That was only a half-day's walk, a trip that didn't even require ponies or tents or any of the other supplies they carried with them now.

He wasn't truly sure what he had expected from their journey to Bree, but the crushing boredom and constant riding definitely was _not_ it. It left him with too much time for thinking let him dwell far too long on the mistakes he'd been making for the past few years. He'd mucked things up with Kili, no matter how much his little brother insisted he hadn't, and he'd no time to make amends before being shoved off on this journey.

He _hated_ it.

Every now and then, Balin will break up the silence with historical stories, and Dwalin adds embellishments (but only when his brother allows it; most of the time the warrior is cut off with a stern glare from his elder), but it is still so _dry_ and boring. The guardsmen that travel with them chat amicably enough; one of them is due to be married to his One in the summer after they return, so their conversations hold no real interest for Fili at all.

Thorin is mostly silent, aside from asking Fili if he is feeling all right each night, and explaining where they are and showing him where he expects them to travel during the day each morning. He can _feel_ how anxious his uncle is, feels how it grows with each step they take closer to Bree. He wants to know more of what happened between his uncle and the Lord of the Iron Hills, what makes it so that Dain can lay claim to the throne just because he thinks Fili might be illegitimate.

By the fifth day, his curiosity is killing him, so he asks.

He waits until Thorin has sidled his pony next to his own, waits until the guardsmen are a little farther ahead to give them some sense of privacy. "I don't understand how Dain can just stake his claim on Erebor if he thinks I'm not a proper heir," he comments, trying his best to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"_Lord_ Dain," Balin corrects with a huff. "Honestly, lad, have you learned nothing from me?"

"He has long been after the throne," Thorin cuts in sharply. "It is…generally frowned upon to have a king whose lineage comes from his mother."

Dwalin mutters something under his breath that he doesn't quite catch, but it earns him a sharp glare from Balin, and a hissed, "You'd best get all of those disrespectful words out of your mouth before we arrive, brother."

"Since I have no sons of my own," Thorin continues, although he now wears a small smile at the Fundin brothers' antics, "Dain would be next in line. If it is true that he only just learned of your, and your brother's, existence, then he's likely angry. He's lived most of his life believing that the throne will somehow fall to him, either through marriage to your mother or through my eventual demise." He sighs. "He will no doubt seek to make you appear weak, unfit for the throne…"

"He's a _boy_," Dwalin grumbles. "I'd understand such nonsense if the lad were of age, but that's more than forty years away. There's no sense in testing him until he's been properly trained"

Balin sighs. "It is all a bit suspicious. I'll grant him the emissaries; that was a wise choice, to verify the existence of the lads, but this…"

Panic claws its way up Fili's spine. He hadn't thought – hadn't even _considered_ that this visit would be anything other than routine. He didn't know the customs of court or the appropriate etiquette or what was truly expected of him. He knew how to greet others appropriately, how to hold his tongue and speak only when asked, and of the history of his line, but everything else, everything a king was supposed to know, was completely foreign to him.

"Do not fret, Fili," Thorin soothes. "You will be kept safe, Dwalin and I will see to that."

"And as your tutor I will certainly speak on your behalf about your education to ease any tension caused by gaps in your knowledge," Balin adds as Dwalin nods stiffly. "You need only to focus on keeping yourself calm and level headed."

"What if he thinks I am unfit to be your heir?" he asks quietly, hating the slight tremble in his voice. He desperately does not want to let his uncle down, not after failing Kili so badly.

"His opinion matters little to me," Thorin all but snarls. "He gets nothing until my death, by any means, and by then we will have reclaimed Erebor and you will be named the prince you were born to be."

"And once he lays eyes on you he'll have no doubts that you're of Durin's line," Balin adds, small smile tugging at his features, trying to diffuse the potential situation Thorin's foul mood may cause. "Coloring aside, you look more like your mum with each passing day."

His comment achieves his goal, as Thorin's scowl gives way to the barest hint of a smile. "That you do, lad."

It gives Fili a sense of peace to hear that. There is not a day that passes that he doesn't think of his mother, of both his parents. It is a small comfort to him to know that he has a piece of her always. Idly, he wonders if it gives his uncle comfort as well, or if it reminds him of what he has lost.

"Kili is starting to look like Frerin," Dwalin adds. "The nose especially; though, his coloring is all yours, Thorin."

Fili frowns. "I thought he looked more like Da?" His memories of his father are far hazier than those of his mother. His mother had been a constant presence in his life, but his father had worked often when he was younger, particularly when they'd learned she was with child once more.

"He did when he was younger," Thorin explains. "Though the more he grows the more he comes to resemble my brother."

"Oh," Fili mumbles. "That's seems odd, since they share a name day and all."

Thorin visibly stiffens and Balin shoots him a warning glare indicating that he is not to reveal that he knows anything more about his departed uncle. Fili sheepishly shrugs his shoulders as a way of apology, and Dwalin quickly turns the conversation to something less sensitive.

Thorin does not speak again that day besides bidding him a good night.

* * *

"There's something…familiar about this place," Fili murmurs a couple of days later. It doesn't _look_ particularly different – they're still surrounded by lush green trees and the road is still rocky and doesn't look to be overly travelled – but there's just something _different_ about the air and the smell and it almost feels like home.

"I'm surprised you remember it," Thorin admits. "We haven't been here since you were very small."

Suddenly, it clicks for him. They are in the woods surrounding Gondamon, a town of dwarrow and men in the lowlands of the mountain, the town where he and Kili were born.

The town where his parents had died.

A thick lump claws its way into his throat, and for a moment he just wants to stop, dismount his pony, and run all the way back to Ered Luin, run back to his little brother and gather him up into his arms and tell him that he's sorry, that he's been such a fool to try and give away what little family he has left. He misses them, all of them, more than he had ever thought possible.

"It has been a long time for myself as well," he continues. "I have not been this way in many years, but I always try to take this road." He's quiet for a moment before continuing. "It brings me comfort to visit with your mother."

Fili's head perks up at this. He's never, not once, visited his parents after they were laid to rest. He knew it was commonplace for dwarrow to visit departed loved ones in the tombs, especially on birthdays and special holidays. He's never even wanted to visit, never truly had the thought cross his mind, until now.

"Do we have time to see her?" he asks without hesitation, suddenly filled with _need_ to pay his respects to his mother.

Thorin offers him a small, sad and wistful smile and nods. "I think Gondamon is a fine place to stop for the evening," he explains. "Our spirits would do well with good food and a warm bed."

Dwalin grumbles something under his breath that sounds like, "_finally"_, and they ride in relative silence the rest of the way to the town, where the Fundin brothers immediately take the reigns of their ponies to lead them to the stables. Balin gives him a warm smile and encouraging nod as the brothers and their guard bid them on their way.

He's anxious as he follows Thorin to the outskirts of the town. All of his memories of this place are vague at best; what he remembers most is his father's warm smiles and his mother's constant affection. He hates that he feels as though he is starting to forget them, hates that their memory has become hazier and hazier with each passing day.

"Shouldn't we be headed toward the mountain?" he asks, curious as to why they are headed in the exact opposite direction. "Or is the entrance to the tomb in the foothills instead?"

"It isn't a tomb at all," his uncle explains. "You remember the cemetery in Fairfield, don't you? It's like that."

Fili frowns and chews on his lower lip. "But we're supposed to go back to the stone after we pass. So that Aule can find us and guide us to Mandos. That's what Mister Balin said at least." He worried now, worried that his mother hasn't found her way to the Halls of Waiting, worried that she won't be waiting for him when he inevitably makes that journey.

"An old myth," Thorin murmurs, but raises a hand to squeeze his shoulder comfortingly all the same. "The Maker protects all of his children, guides them all to the Halls whether they are laid to rest in the stone or not." He is quiet for a long moment before he murmurs, "and so many of us have not been," so quietly that Fili is sure he wasn't meant to hear it.

The graveyard is a small, nondescript affair. It is sectioned off with a low wall of stones; the graves are marked with even humbler stone markers. Some are engraved with names and messages to those who have been lost, while others are completely barren, and Fili wonders if there is anyone who mourns those unnamed souls. Even fewer are marked with runes, runes that Balin has drilled into his head since he was five years old, the runes of their people.

"Here," Thorin murmurs quietly once they've reached the back row of stones. "Here they are."

He follows his uncle's lead as a sinks reverently to his knees, fingertips brushing across the inscription on the cool stone marker.

"Here lies Dis, daughter of Thror, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain," he reads out loud as his fingers brush carefully across each rune. "Mum," he whispers softly, tears threatening to break free. "Oh, Mum; I miss you so much."

He can feel the tears as they well up and start to fall, can feel the trembling in his shoulders and the shaking in his hands, can feel the cool earth beneath his fingers as he lets them fall to the ground in front of him. He _knows _that he's going to loose his composure, _knows _with every ounce of his being, but he has to do this. He has to see them, one last time. He makes himself think of warm smiles and sweets and kisses goodnight and half whispered lullabies, makes himself _remember_ everything he can about her, because he's already lost _her_; he cannot bear to forget her too.

Thorin's hand is warm and calming as it rubs gentle circles across his shoulders, but he doesn't want it. He doesn't want his uncle to intrude on this. He doesn't want him here at all. This isn't about him. It's about _them, _about the family they were before everything went to hell. He deftly shifts away from the contact, choosing instead to focus on his father's headstone, though he does manage to catch the hurt expression that passes across his uncle's face as he turns away.

"Tili, son of Vili," he reads quietly, his throat constricted by his tears. "I didn't even know that was his name," he half murmurs, half sobs. "Da."

Thorin reaches for him again, just barely brushes his fingertips along his tunic before Fili pulls away again.

"Stop!" he shouts. "Go away…just…go." His sobs have fully taken him over then, the careful dam he's kept on his emotions for _years_ cracks and breaks, and he sinks down to the ground completely, fists curling in the damp ground that covers the bodies of his parents, the force of his sobs causing him to take deep, gasping breaths. It's too much. This is too much.

"Fili," his uncle calls quietly, but he pays him no mind. "Sweet Fili," he murmurs as he reaches for him again.

"NO!" Fili practically snarls as he wrenches himself free. "No; I don't want you," he snaps before curling back in on himself and sobbing brokenly. "I don't want you," he murmurs. "Want Mum….want Da…not you."

It's getting harder and harder to breathe, but Thorin blissfully backs off, and it hurts and he's sad and he just _wants_ one more lullaby from his mother, _wants_ one more smile from his father, _wants_ so much that it hurts like he's being torn apart from the inside.

He wants, but he knows he'll never have them, and that makes him hurt all the more.

* * *

Thorin feels as though he's been punched in the gut, or run through by the Defiler himself. He wants to fix this, _needs _to fix this. He aches for Fili, positively and absolutely feels for the lad he's grown to love as his own son.

'_Not your son,'_ his mind unhelpfully reminds. Fili had been more than clear that he'd no intentions of allowing Thorin to take the place of his father in his heart.

He's failing him. He's let himself forget that, through all of his maturity and composure, Fili is still just a boy, just thirty-four, and he'd left him to sort out his own hurts, left him without checking back in, without _helping_ him because he'd been so damned concerned about keeping up boundaries.

'_No more,'_ he tells himself. _'No more.'_

"Fili, my boy," he murmurs and grabs for him again, this time more forcefully, and pulls him against his chest. The lad struggles, as he'd expected him to, even clocks him in the jaw with his elbow, but Thorin holds tight. He will not fail him again. "It's alright, Fili," he calls gently. "It's alright. I've got you."

It's as if he's uttered magical words, the way Fili responds. He slumps against him, a broken, strangled sob on his lips as he stops his struggling. Thorin wraps his arms tightly around him, pulls him close and rocks him gently. Fili is still sobbing, but his hands are grasping at his Uncle's clothing, trying to pull himself closer as he utters words Thorin cannot hope to ascertain.

"Shhh," he soothes, barely managing to halt the tears of relief he feels forming in his own eyes. "I've got you, Fili. I've got you. You're alright."

"It's _not_ alright," Fili sobs against him. "They're _gone_. It's not alright."

He doesn't quite know what to say to that; he has to admit that the lad is correct – it's _not_ all right. He's lost his baby sister, watched he loose the man she loved, been tasked with raising her children in her stead, not to mention how he is a King without a Kingdom. He still keeps Fili close, rocks him gently as the dwarfling sobs himself out. His eyes pass over his sister and her husband's graves and he can't help but wonder if she's disappointed in him. He knows he would be, were he in her place.

But he's _tried_. He's tried so hard to take care of them. He's failed them, many times, and he knows he'll fail them at least once more before his life is through, but that doesn't mean he loves them any less.

"I know," he murmurs quietly, once Fili is significantly calmer. "I know it isn't fair. I know you miss them; I miss them too," he admits. "But you must know that I love you in their place, don't you? So much, Fili. I know I can't be your father, but –"

"But you can be Kili's?" Fili interrupts, his tone harsh and accusing. "You can't be my Da but you can pretend to be Kee's all you want?"

Thorin feels completely flabbergasted. "What are you…?" His mind whirls at an increasingly rapid pace and he doesn't know what to do. He'd told Kili, he'd _told_ him that he couldn't be his Da, told him that he could never replace their departed parents. "I don't – "

"You do!" Fili snaps back. "You coddle him and praise him and you get so, so mad at me if I hurt him. You_ hit_ me because I'd hurt him, remember?" Thorin falls into stunned silence as the lad continues his tirade, familiar guilt clawing at his insides. "You get so mad when anything happens to precious little Kili, you know? But not when something hurts me! You just tell me to be brave, to be strong. I don't _want_ to be!" Fili's voice breaks just the tiniest bit. "I want you to coddle me and praise me and _love_ me as much as you do Kee. Uncle, please."

"I don't…" he stumbles over his words, blindsided by Fili's admissions. "I don't love you any less than your brother, Fili…"

"He's more important to you," Fili whines as his head falls back against his uncle's chest. "You worry about him more."

"Because he's so young, and he's not like you," he explains. "You're stronger than he is, smarter at most things. I worry for him more out of necessity, not because I care more for him."

"You hit me for hurting him," Fili murmurs dejectedly. "You'd never hit him, no matter what he'd done."

Thorin can feel all of the blood drain from his face. "I…I didn't know how to bring you back to sense, Fili," he mumbles, but his reasoning sounds folly to his own ears, and he knows Fili is right. Kili's youth would have stayed his hand, no matter the situation. That incident was a prime example of how he'd messed up so many things with his boys. "My father did the same to me once, when I'd gotten so enraged at Frerin for dulling my sword. I'd been so angry and couldn't see or hear or feel anything other than my anger until he struck me and I thought…I know I shouldn't have, Fili, and I'm _sorry_…"

Fili shakes his head. "I know…I know about that but I just…I just want you to love me as much as Kili."

He cups the lad's tear soaked cheeks in his hands and presses their foreheads together, thumbs absently brushing across his cheekbones. "I do, Fili. I swear that I do."

Fili frowns hard at him, his eyes still watery. "You don't show it…you don't let me sleep with you after night terrors or hug me when you come home or anything like that…you don't…"

"My sweet Fili," he murmurs softly. "I didn't know you'd wanted me to. I'd thought you wanted space."

"I don't know what I want, I just…" he sighs heavily and lets his head drop instead to his uncle's shoulder. "I want Mum and Da. And I want Kili to _know_ them – he doesn't even _know_ them, Uncle! – and I want you to be like my Da but I don't want to forget him and I just…I don't know what to do."

"You won't forget them," he half-whispers as he presses his hand against Fili's heart. "They're right here; you'll never truly forget them, forget their love or who they were. They are with you. Always."

Fili simply nods against him and releases a shuddering breath as he curls closer to his uncle.

"And you must forgive me," he continues as he tucks his arms tighter around the lad. "My strong, brave, kind Fili, for I have failed you, haven't I?" He presses a kiss to the crown of the dwarfling's head. "I'd never wanted you to feel this way, to feel as though I didn't love you as much as your brother. I do," he assures him. "Kili's complained that I must love _you_ more, you know?"

Fili's head snaps up at him, shock evident on his features. "How could he think that?"

"Because he hears how I speak of you when you're not around," he explains. "He knows how proud I am of you, knows how much I appreciate everything that you've done for our family. I have been remiss in showing my affections to _you_; I can see that now, but no more, lad. I promise."

Fili nods, clearly thrown by the thought that Kili could have ever thought their Uncle had loved him least, and winds his arms around Thorin, hugs him tightly. "M'sorry, Uncle," he whispers. "I love you."

"And I you, my boy," he murmurs and presses another kiss into the lads hair. "And I you."

* * *

It takes three more weeks for their small company to make their way to Bree. If anyone else notices the shift between the King and his Heir, they make no comment. Fili is in much higher spirits, anyhow, and it warms Thorin's heart to see the small, grateful smile that tugs at the lads lips whenever he claps a hand to his shoulder, pats him warmly on the back, or gives him an enveloping hug before sending him off to his bedroll for the night.

It's not until their first night in the tavern in Bree, after Thorin has shuffled Fili off to bed and Balin has retreated to his own room to catch up on some 'light reading,' as he'd called it, when he and Dwalin are enjoying long-awaited ales after so long on the road, that it comes up.

"He's awfully clingy lately," he murmurs, clearly doing his best to sound nonchalant, to give Thorin a way out of the conversation if he truly wanted to.

"He is," Thorin agrees. "It would seem he was under the impression that I cared more for his brother than for him."

Dwalin snorted quietly into his mug. "Never thought one of our great plights would be convincing both of them lads that you love them the same," he murmurs. "Seen you lob an orc's head clean off with one swing, but then you turn to mush in a heartbeat for those boys."

Thorin shakes his head. "Oh, and you're any better?"

Dwalin grins behind his mug. "That's different. I'm their _teacher_. Them lads are supposed to adore me!"

He simply shoves him hard in the shoulder, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips as he does so, one that Dwalin easily returns.

* * *

Dain arrives three days after they do. Balin spends the majority of the morning fussing over Fili, drilling him on the history he does know and reminding him of how to properly address Dain and his men. Not to mention the clothes. Fili has never worn such fine garments in his life, all warm furs and silks in rich blues, emblazoned with his crest. Balin almost makes him wear a different belt, but he holds fast to the simple, unadorned leather one that Kili had made for him not months before.

He misses his brother, more than he'd like to admit. Thorin and Dwalin do well to help him keep his mind off of it, but when he's alone and trying to sleep he wishes he had Kili's solid weight against his side, and when he braids his hair and sees the small lumps and imperfections, he wishes Kili were here to do it for him. More than anything he wonders if his brother is doing alright, wonders if he misses him too, wonders if he's grown taller or if his beard has started to come in or if he's gotten any better at his bow.

They're two parts to a whole, and the longer he spends away from him, the more his heart aches.

"There, laddie; I think you're all set now," Balin mutters as he circles around him one more time. "Are you sure about the belt? It looks so plain with the rest."

"Kee made it for me; I want to wear it," he affirms.

Balin just gives him a small smile and a nod. "Now do your best to remember everything we've talked about, and be polite. Aule knows Dwalin will offend someone the moment we get there, can't have that coming from the heir as well." His tutor claps his hands onto Fili's shoulders and fixes him with a stern gaze. "You'll make us proud, won't you, laddie?"

"I'll do my best," Fili promises, trying very hard to quell the swarm of butterflies that are churning in his stomach. Butterflies that are made worse when Balin tuts quietly under his breath and sets about fixing something with his hair.

"Stop fussing over him so," Dwalin scolds when he reenters the room. "You're just making him nervous."

"I am not _fussing_," Balin refutes, but still continues to adjust Fili's hair.

"You are," Thorin affirms when he steps into the room, and he gives Fili and warm smile. He's relieved to see that his uncle is similarly dressed, and for the first time in his life he sees his elder as the king he truly is. "Come, Fili. We mustn't keep our company waiting."

Fili eagerly pulls himself away from Balin's fretting to join his uncle as he steps out into the hall. He knows Thorin is anxious as well, has seen the stress building in his uncle from the moment they'd arrived in Bree. There are so many things he knows Thorin wishes were happening differently than they were, but, being a king in exile, he has little choice.

"You look like a prince," he observes as they walk along the corridor, quickly trailing down the steps and into the fresh air outside.

"You're welcome!" Balin calls out from behind them, clearly in a huff, and both Thorin and Fili snicker quietly at him.

"I'm scared," he admits quietly, walking just a bit closer to his uncle to avoid having their conversation overheard. "I don't want to let you down."

"You won't," Thorin assures him quietly as he slings an arm around his shoulders. "You make me proud enough just by bearing to be this far from home, for putting up with Dain's antics regarding your lineage, when, I should expect, this little meeting has nothing to do with you."

Fili nods, taking great comfort in the warmth of his uncle's arm across his shoulders as they step out into the chilly fall air. Dain had reserved some rooms at the Town Hall, to afford them more privacy than the Inn would, and Fili is relieved to see their three guardsmen waiting at its doors to usher them inside.

"Relax," Thorin remind him. "If you do not know what to say, say nothing. Balin and I will take care of you."

Fili just nods and sucks in a great breath as the doors to the hall are pushed open and they are led to Dain's borrowed halls.

"Ah! Thorin, my old friend! It has been many years, hasn't it?" An older dwarf greets, his hair and beard tinged with grey, smiling eyes crinkling at the corners with his arms splayed open wide in greeting. Fili almost feels comforted by him, until he notices the dark, predatory glint in his gray gaze. "Is this the lad then?" he asks, walking toward them to stand directly in front of Thorin.

"He is the son of my father's daughter," Thorin murmurs the traditional title with no small sense of pride. "He is my heir. This is Fili, son of Dis."

Dain regards him with a strange look for a moment. "Your hair coloring may be peculiar, but there is no doubting that you are you mother's son. You have her eyes and all."

Fili isn't quite sure what to say, but he settles on a quietly murmured "thank you, sir."

Abruptly, the dwarf lord straightens. "Well, he is much younger than I'd expected," Dain mutters, sounding almost exasperated as he grasps Fili's forearm in greeting. "Just how old are you, lad?"

He quickly glances to Thorin, who gives him a small nod of approval. "Thirty-four, my Lord," he answers succinctly, pleased with himself for keeping his voice from trembling. There is something about this dwarf that has set him on edge, despite the fact that he has shown no open hostility.

"My, my," Dain murmurs as he returns to his own seat and gestures for them to sit as well. The dwarf lord is flanked by two dwarrows on either side, all dressed as intimidatingly as the emissaries that had arrived in Ered Luin not so long ago. "Practically still in nappies, aren't you?"

"Were he born of some common folk, perhaps," Dwalin growls, and Balin sends him a mildly panicked look. "But Fili is still on schedule for all of his training. Ahead schedule with his weapons, actually."

"And he is well aware of the traditions and expectations of a crown prince of Erebor," Balin interjects before Dwalin can make too much of his displeasure known.

"Fine, fine," Dain murmurs as he waves him off. "What about the little one? The elfling?" He laughs under his breath, turns to his guards who return mirthful smiles. "What did you say you'd heard when you were there? That he spends more time out in the woods with a bow than in the forge? And scrawny and frail to boot." One of the guards nods the affirmative and he guffaws under his breath.

Fili has to ball his hand into a fist under the table to keep from speaking out in his brother's defense. A quick glance to his uncle at his left and Dwalin to his right proves that he is not the only one struggling to hold his tongue.

"Oh, it's nothing to beat yourself up over, Thorin," he chides. "You've got a fine enough heir in this one, I'd wager." He steeples his fingers in front of his face, eyes narrowing slightly. "You cannot expect exemplary children, not in a common marriage like that."

"My brother is a fine craftsman already and will grow to be a great hunter," Fili interjects, voice hard. "Do not speak of him as though he has no value." His fingernails and pressing half-moons into his palms and he squeezes his hands into even tighter fists.

Dain raises his hand slightly. "I mean no offence. He has fine skills for a commoner, less so for a prince."

"Yes, because a prince who can hunt and feed his people in exile is such a waste," Dwalin mutters, his voice lacking any of the carefully placed diplomacy Fili's own had held.

"Perhaps we should steer the conversation more towards your true purpose, Lord Dain?" Balin placates in an attempt to diffuse the mounting tension.

"And should these two," he gestures between Thorin and Fili, "meet an untimely end, would you feel comfortable following him as your king?" Dain asks, a small sneer on his face, clearly expecting to trip Dwalin up and catch him off guard.

"I would be proud to call him my king," Dwalin says without a second of hesitation, eyes hard as he watches Dain recline back into his chair.

"And if he truly is a half breed?" Dain all but snarls, his voice just barely tinted with the politeness diplomacy requires.

"Have care how you speak of my sons," Thorin interjects, his voice whisper quiet but razor sharp. Fili, Dwalin, and Balin turn stunned eyes to him, but Thorin keeps his gaze on Dain, who openly laughs.

"You have no sons, master Oakenshield," he reminds, his voice taking on an almost mirthful tone.

"Not by birth, no," he agrees. "But I have raised the two of them as my own since Fili was five and the younger was just a babe. They are my sons in everything but name, and to threaten or speak ill of them means you do so of me."

Dain is quiet for a long moment, his jaw working in barely suppressed anger. "Very well then."

"Speak plainly of your intentions, Dain," Thorin growls, clearly growing wary of the older dwarf's runaround. "We have traveled many hard miles to meet with you."

Dain huffs quietly under his breath and sinks back into his chair. He leans to his right and whispers with one of his guards, who nods but snickers quietly in a way that makes Fili wholly unsettled. "I only seek to mend the damage in the relationship of our great lands, Thorin," he explains.

"Funny, seeing how you're the one who damaged them," Dwalin snarks back. Fili knows that the warrior had often regarding his mother as his own sister, close as he and Thorin had been as children, and he is unsurprised at his open hostility toward the dwarf lord. Balin gives his brother a sharp glare from across their side of the table, and Fili thinks he sees the ghost of a smile of amusement flash across his uncle's face before it returns to his normal, stoic mask.

"Be that as it may," Dain continues, keeping his eyes on Thorin and clearly doing his best to pretend that Dwalin isn't even in the room; "We wish to mend those slights. We wish to foster one of your kin, for one of your lads to marry into my line and -"

"No," Thorin says sharply, without a hint of hesitation, just as Fili feels the floor drop out from underneath him.

"It would be a great honor for an exiled prince to be harbored within my halls," Dain continues, undaunted. "And a right fine thing for that wild one, at least, to let him see how a proper dwarf behaves, to get him set straight before he's too far gone."

"You're out of your blasted mind," Dwalin sneers, and Balin makes no move to shush him this time. For his part, the scholar is doing a spectacular impression of a fish, his mouth falling open and closed in clear shock. "You've got some nerve, calling us here under the pretense of peace…"

"Think, Thorin," Dain urges, "It would be good for the lad -"

"No," Fili reiterates, his voice full of harsh coldness. "You'll not have my brother." Balin had warned him of this, had spoken to him of how daughters and second sons were often seen as bargaining chips in diplomacy, yet he'd never thought it would actually happen, not to Kili, not to his baby brother.

"You truly are mad if you think I would send him to you after all of the slights you given him," Thorin all but growls. "You and your guardsmen who have openly mocked him. He will have no safety in your halls, no _love_, and I will not condemn my youngest to that fate."

"Condemn?" Dain stutters. "It is a great courtesy I show you, Thorin Oakenshield!"

"No," Thorin says again, slamming his palm flat down on the tabletop that separates them. "My answer is final."

"Have some sense about you -"

"His answer is final," Dwalin repeats, smirking just slightly at the way Dain mildly shrinks back from him. "Now, if you have other business for us to tend to?"

"What business could I have with a King without a Kingdom?" Dain snaps back. "You are a fool, Thorin. Fostering one of the lads would gain you favor with my kin, would give a new homeland to your people"

"My people have a homeland," Thorin interjects. "And I will reclaim it for them. I will see it done."

"What, and become Thorin Dragon Slayer instead?" the dwarf lord growls. "Smaug's desolation is terrible -"

"We have seen it with our own eyes," Balin snaps, eyes sharp and face stern as he speaks out against Dain. "We have known dragonfire and death. Do not speak to us of loss."

"The dragon is just as volatile as ever," Dain continues. "It is folly to reclaim your lost kingdom. You'll have to wait until it dies, and that dragon will far outlive you."

"You know not of what you speak," Thorin continues calmly. "Erebor will be mine once more. I will avenge the deaths of my father and grandfather, of my sister and brother; I will have my revenge upon that worm."

"You've gone mad," Dain declares, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "That old wizard has spun some insane ideas into your head. He would see you dead before you sat on the throne of Erebor."

Fili blinks up at his uncle in surprise. A wizard? He'd only heard stories of them; had never even seen one in person, but apparently his uncle was conversing with one? The wizard had certainly never been to Ered Luin; the townsfolk would have talked of nothing else and surely Fili would have heard.

"You needed concern yourself with my plans," Thorin mutters coldly. "Nor the fate of my lads. I had hoped that we could see eye to eye about these matters, but if you are insistent on being so stubborn -"

"I am the Lord of the Iron Hills!" Dain practically roars as he hastily stands and slams his palms on the table. "You are nothing more than an exiled king, with no hope of providing for his subjects. You can give them nothing, but I can. I offer you sanctuary, Thorin, sanctuary for your people, for a better way of life! Do not be as foolish as your grandfather was."

Thorin is quiet for a moment, thoughtfully chewing on his cheek. Dain calms significantly and sinks back down into his hair, hands tented expectantly in front of his face. The barest hint of a smile pulls at his lips; he must think he's won.

"It is a generous offer," Thorin concedes, and Fili feels panic clawing at his insides. He couldn't, Thorin just _couldn't_ send Kili away. "But you ask for a life that is not mine to give. You ask me to take a boy who has lost so very much, to take what small joys he has and extinguish them. You ask to tamper his soul, to change him from who he is, to _destroy_ everything he is and could ever be. You ask for something I cannot give you, though I would not give it to you even if it were mine to share."

Fili breathes out a breath he'd not realized he'd been holding in relief, just as Dain's face pinches in frustration. "You truly are a fool," he sneers finally. "Go on then; out with you! I've nothing more to discuss with stubborn, mad kings today!" His guardsmen rise to their feet, hands positioned loosely over their weapons as if they are anticipating a fight. "We can reconvene tomorrow; perhaps you'll have your wits about you then."

"My answer will be the same tomorrow," Thorin reminds him. "And it will be the same for all days forward. If you've called us here with the sole intention of fostering one of my lads, then you will leave disappointed, no matter how long we drag this out."

Dain narrows his eyes. "Your madness aside, I have much more pressing matters to discuss with you and your scholar," he mumbles. "You'll not need to bring the boy or your guard dog tomorrow."

Dwalin is immediately on his feet, but Thorin reaches straight across Fili, arm moving lightning fast, to grab him and yank him back down into his seat. A small, self-satisfied smirk sneaks its way onto Dain's face, and Fili feels his stomach churn in disgust. This isn't at all how he'd expected their meeting to go down. He'd thought he would be tested on his skills and knowledge, as Balin had told him was commonplace before an heir is officially announced, not to hear about some underhanded scheme to swindle himself or his brother away from their uncle.

Thorin nods his assent to Dain's terms for the next day before rising gracefully from his seat and striding out of the room. Every step he takes exudes confidence, and Fili finds himself hoping against hope that he will one day be able to simply _walk_ and show his authority. For now, he simply bows his head respectfully toward the Lord of the Iron Hills before following obediently after his uncle.

Dwalin is digging for his pipe and lighting it the second they are out in the fresh air. "The nerve of that bastard," he all but snarls. "To think he has some claim to Kili's youth, that he has some _obligation_ to foster him out of the _goodness_ of his heart and _fix_ him."

A quick glance to his uncle shows that he is no less frustrated, but he turns to Dwalin and half-whispers, "Keep your voice down. We do not know what spies he may have brought with him."

Dwalin still grumbles something under his breath in Khuzdul. "He's right, brother," Balin chimes in. "He wants to see what Fili is made of. I have no doubts that he's got eyes all over this town, so you'd best be on your best behavior. The both of you," he adds, with a small wink at Fili.

"He can't just take Kili, can he?" Fili murmurs under his breath as he catches up to his uncle. "I mean, if he really wanted to?"

Thorin shakes his head as he lays his arm across Fili's shoulders and pulls him closer so they can speak even quieter. "He cannot," he whispers. "I had not in my wildest dreams imagined _that_ to be his plan."

"Do you think he's got something bigger planned?" Fili murmurs back, suddenly wondering which of the dwarves and men and halflings milling about the marketplace could be in liege with Dain.

"Time will tell, lad," is all he says in reply. "Time will tell."

* * *

It's been two months. Two months of absolutely crushing boredom in Bree. He and Dwalin have not been invited to any more meetings, and Balin and Thorin speak little of their dealings with Dain, but Fili has noticed his uncle becoming more and more frustrated, more and more distant as the days pass. He spends his days sparring and weapons training with Dwalin in as public of places as they can manage, and Fili's started to notice which of the 'villagers' are actually under Dain's thumb. He reads his history books and scrolls in public places as well, does his best to put on the show of a sound, respectful heir that he knows Dain is looking for.

But at the end of the day, he is tired and heartsick for his brother.

Finally, one night when he can stand it no longer, he crawls into Thorin's bed while his elder is reading and tucks himself into his side. He feels small and scared and he wants to go home. Thorin must sense it in him, as he shifts about slightly, freeing up one arm to wrap around his heir.

"I want to go home," Fili murmurs finally, pressing his face into his uncle's chest. He can feel tears pricking at the backs of his eyes, so he squeezes them shut instead.

Thorin's hand shifts to comb through his hair, and he's quiet for a long time. "So do I," he murmurs finally. "Soon enough, though; I should hope."

"Is everything okay?" he summons up the courage to ask. "You haven't said a word."

"You are young still," Thorin mumbles. "You needn't be troubled by such dark things."

"But Kili is safe?" he asks, feeling small and weak and stupid because if he can't protect his brother from this then what can he?

Thorin leans down to press a kiss against his forehead. "Kili is safe, and will stay that way, just as I promised you," he soothes. "As are you. Dain's been quite pleased with what he's heard of you. Damn near passed you a compliment this morning, actually."

Fili nearly glows with pride. "Really?" he asks, not quite believing his uncle's words but trusting his elder not to lie to him all the same.

"Really," Thorin murmurs. "I know I haven't said as much, but...I am proud of you, Fili"

Thorin's arm nudges him just a bit closer and he wraps his arms around him in a warm hug. He knows this trip has changed things for them, has afforded them a new closeness that he hadn't even noticed he's missed for so long. The warmth of that thought eventually lulls him into a deep and restful sleep, happy with the knowledge that his uncle will keep them both safe and protected as well as he can.

* * *

Two weeks later and their dealings with Dain are finished. It's been a mild winter in Bree, and a week after that Balin suggests that the mountain roads should be cleared enough for them to travel home. Three weeks into their journey, Fili finds himself uncontrollably excited to see his little brother again. He knows he's missed so much, is anxious to see how Kili's grown, desperate to grab him and hug him and hold him close and tell him how he's been such and _idiot_, because he has been, for all this time. His heart feels lighter than it has in years.

They're nearly to Gondamon when the ravens come.

The first one comes in the morning, straight to Balin. His tutor's face pales considerably once he reads it, and he urges Thorin and the rest of their company off the road.

"Thorin," he hisses, panic clear in his voice. "Read this," he demands, passing the parchment through shaking hands to his king.

Fili doesn't start to panic until the color drains from Thorin's face as well. "This is dated yesterday," he breathes, disbelief clear in his voice. "This is...how far are we yet?"

"At least a week's ride, my lord," one of the guardsmen answers. "Has something happened?"

Dwalin, clearly fed up with being kept in the dark, snatches the parchment fro Thorin's hand, and Fili practically scrambles to his side to read over his shoulder. He is absolutely positive that his entire world crashes down around him as he reads.

"_Thorin, son of Thror, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain:_

_Last eve, a horde of orcs overran the town of Fairfield. We can see the fires even from the settlement, and the smoke is thick in the air, thick enough to block out the sun. We fear they may come for us next; the winter has left us weakened and our resources low. We are preparing for battle as I write. Please, if you can, make haste to return home._

_Nar"_

"Orcs?" he breathes out, scarcely believing what he's read. Not at the settlement; not at their _home_; not _again_. A feeling of despair crawls up his spine. They are a week away; they would never make it back in time and Kili - "Kili!" he shouts out, grasps frantically at his uncle's sleeve. "Uncle, we have to go!"

Thorin simply nods, his face a blank mask as he mounts his pony and spurs it back onto the road. They're too far away; they'll never make it in time to help. He chances a glance around at their small company and can't take the concern and the _fear_ he sees on all of their faces. He wants to scream, wants to curse _everything _because he's finally, _finally_ found his happiness and he can feel it slipping away from him like ash through his hands.

They ride hard and fast, pushing the ponies to their absolute limits before stopping to rest. The second raven arrives just at dusk, and it makes Fili's chest constrict, robs him of the ability to breathe for several long moments as blackness creeps in on his vision.

Three words, scrawled across the parchment in unusually sloppy writing from their governor.

"_They have come."_

* * *

I'm not even sorry at all. Love you, my dears!


End file.
